Post Expressionism.

If I had a chapbook, it'd be called "For I am your New God," and on the inverse side of the chapbook, that meaning flipped both over and left to right, "The Year that I broke my Leg." I read someone's thoughts who recently expressed the curiosity, lifelong curiosity, wondering what exactly it feels like to brake their arm. I am not alone. But these titles represent a duality in my life, in which I vacillate between feelings of supremacy and down and out-ness.

Perhaps you think it's something like a manic state. You might be right. But of course I'm exaggerating for effect. But all I'm saying is that some days I can eat 12 pies and win replays at pinball, and some mornings the coffee does nothing and my bicycle legs are frozen meats.