the breath of madness sighs through my mind

the softest Aeolian zephyr

I speak to her

empty paper mocks

ideas evaporate

rain sings of solace

In the depths of the night

In the groaning, tossing, sleepless hours

Soul-shriveling and sprinkled with hate

Sickly stars shine down

On a banquet of my own weakness

Never-ending and without release

 

And what comes next?

my mind is a poison garden
rusting beneath an acid sun
watered by a chloride fountain
where the harvest is never done

Children everywhere growing up

are made to acknowledge so many rules.

“Stay out of the street.” “Hold your brother’s hand.”

“Don’t jump out of trees.” “Don’t climb on stools.”

“Stay off the shed roof.” “Don’t run with scissors.”

“Don’t play with your father’s power tools.”

and the stone men stepped down from their pedestals,

while the firecats raced through the crowds;

What things walk behind the shadows,

when all the world is blind?

What things lurk in unhallowed places,

and the landscapes of my mind?

No Montague nor Capulet
Would dare trade parts with me –