Tuesday, May 20, 2008

And then sometimes it comes
making my insanity's numb
bringing me down inside the sickness
a place of soggy crumbs and the absence of  drums

But it's aim is vicious
a doll house scenery
where the heart's pump is purely fictitious  
Like explosion amnesia, erasing what's real
a local anesthesia, that chemical meal
no tears or hunger
I choose not to feel
fall down. grow hard. 
flesh sensitive only to surgical steel.

And these are the highs
where the frequency momentarily mutes the cries
the lows they seem much worse
leaving me empty and dry, with cliched plastic thirst

reliable, this cycle is monotone and well-rehearsed
a cynical nurse who came disguised as a doctor at first

so when clarity threatens to raise the curtain
I grab the blindfold. stay safe in the uncertain.

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