Crazy

Can you see the sunlight fail?
The fading light catches in the bathroom
mirror, distorting the view of tiles and porcelain
faces; camouflage for the cement and mould between
the tiles. If you rush into depression you spoil the illusion
and the imaginations of children – we waste the world
with compulsive habits. Teeth are rotting with addiction;
let us open mouths to acid rain and we can say it was
by choice. Can you feel the lack of spit, dry parched lips
and the blood under your tongue? Dust and boredom
dwell in your lungs; with one last breath, we place
murder on this obscenity and then cry out for more.
The anchor fails and wood splinters in the firelight;
we learn that we never planned to fail and the goldfish
is drowning in muck. Forever is a long time without
the light of day; and together, all alone, we dance on
a cranium plateau. There is no tinfoil, no bad excuses
for the oak tree to which we condemned our hearts – we
blindly applaud the dreams that do not pierce insanity.
The worst thunderstorms are just figments of imaginations; with
lightning, the spindles of trust undone. Rain bounces off senseless
flesh and the needle scrapes the surface of arteries but cannot penetrate
the gasoline and tar. Perhaps the smoke will make you burn faster; the
living hell of blood and the inability to see a song through.
And hell becomes heaven in a flutter of mind when
reality tears a hole in belief; the marble cracks the grass
over a mottled collection of bodies and ebony. The tangle
of roots smash bones and take names of those yet to die.
Can you turn to ash in beautiful demise? Onlookers watch
and they clap and they cry as pale skin blisters on the
underdeveloped youth. It's not a horror story; but homicide
made true with the rattle of a jar. There's nothing that
knives and razors cannot heal in the modern world -
is depression all that it seems? A yearning for acceptance;
the snide, familiar laughter of falling short of the mark.
It's going to rain like this for days; we raise our scalps and
let our heads embrace the chill – let the poison wash
our superpowers and memories from our open brains.
We pin our hearts to our earlobes; susceptible to words,
a testimony to immortality. But one for all and all
alone; hidden in the terminal fractures of thinking.
So we drown under the stars; in the bath with
windows open to air out the room. It's not
love that stops the world from turning, we fake
a smile like we fake each other;
out of body, out of mind and the story stops.