I want a bipolar for president. I want a president who hasn’t slept for three days because he has been creating sneaker designs inspired by alien rock formations. I want a president who, at the end of a meth binge, finds herself cross-dressing in a Macy’s bathroom when the sprinkler system goes off because she is smoking resin. I want a president who has HIV. I want a president who has been hospitalized at least three times. I want a president who has had all encompassing visual hallucinations so intense that they spend large parts of the day trying to convince others that what they saw was in fact real. I want a president who knows what death is. I want a president who sends off 40 tweets in a row as if she just discovered alliteration for the first time. I want a president who disappears herself online until friends begin inquiring about her health. I want my president to have the best healthcare and the best doctors so suicidal ideations are no big deal. I want a president who says, Whoops I forgot to take my meds, winks, and runs away cackling. I want a president who has put lube on a bicycle seat. I want a president who got grounded because he maxed out daddies credit card by ordering wigs, make-up, and sushi to a friends house in Crown Heights. I want a president who doesn’t have to work because they understand the very essence of capital so well that the government gives them SSI to keep their mouth shut. I want a president who purposefully leans so far out the fourth story whitehouse window that he falls and breaks his back because he quote, Wanted to see what if felt like. I want a president who can appreciate a good hospital gown. I want my president’s bipolar disorder to forever be undiagnosed. I want a president who shoplifts 40K worth of goods in a weeks time, doesn’t get caught, and then spends the night in the Tombs for trying to return a celebrity’s purse that he found on a park bench. I want a president who was raped by seven bald men but can’t decide if it is his fault. I want a president who refuses to see a psychiatrist because she quote doesn’t want to go through the system. I want a president who knows the secrets of the universe but never admits it because of the mountains of shame built around youth so sits quietly with level ten empath abilities coming up with the ideas that will save the planet just in the nick of time
Forrest Muelrath was born in a redwood tree and he now lives in a former shopping mall. He writes art criticism and covers the daily news in New York City. The Bear Creek Gazette will soon be publishing his first poem on the internet. You can find links to published writing here and his Tweets here.
