Why are the traits of creativity and insanity
An hourglass and sand
Is it an inherited genetic defect?
Or a wonderment of man
An anomaly of nature
A chemical imbalance in the Ribonucleic acid
A minuscule knot in the DNA strands
Many minds revered and unknown don the genius crown
The emotive disturbing creations of Goya’s dark-stained hands
......
Reclining on the cold black leather couch
Preparing my contrived views of what’s life's about
My weaknesses, objectives, dislikes, perspectives, and fears
And to the mix for drama's sake
I will add a spattering of false tears
His eyes were full of gray cold dissection
Bemused expression and advice
I accepted without any objections or argument
His professional and profound perspective of my life
......
I clasped my beloved's cold body
In my aching arms and wept
For the words that were left unspoken
For the promises never kept
It was a debt that demanded payment
Cruelty for profit has a price
Unaware of this he was until his end
The cost would be his life
......
I am told by those certified normal
I cannot continue to live in a world of dreams
My chosen state of existence society will not accept
So says the physiologist with tiny black eyes
I, however, disagree with his professional opinion
And his droll advice I will most adamantly reject
I prefer my fantasies of sunken Atlantis
Of warlock’s, fairies and mischievous elves
Talking ageless trees and witches hollows
......
There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.
He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.
At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He had hidden the instances of violence against women and kept the cops at bay by snitching when he had a little useable information and they cut him a little slack for his efforts.
But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.
He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. Then he remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.
......
I clasped my beloved's cold body
In my aching arms and wept
For the words that were left unspoken
For the promises never kept
It was a debt that demanded payment
Cruelty for profit has a price
Unaware of this he was until his end
The cost would be his life
......
I write these words while I am still myself
The price paid as my cold soul burns
No longer possessing the impediment of a heart
It’s the script for which I yearn
Jumping to and fro throughout memories and time
My life subtly disguised in misleading illusions and vague erratic rhyme
My eccentricity I have little or no inclination to explain
Nor the secret corners of my fragmented thoughts
Where revenge and malevolence play
......
Reclining on the cold black leather couch
Preparing my contrived views of what’s life's about
My weaknesses, objectives, dislikes, perspectives, and fears
And to the mix for drama's sake
I will add a spattering of false tears
His eyes were full of gray cold dissection
Bemused expression and advice
I accepted without any objections or argument
His professional and profound perspective of my life
......
There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.
He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.
At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He had hidden the instances of violence against women and kept the cops at bay by snitching when he had a little useable information and they cut him a little slack for his efforts.
But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.
He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. Then he remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.
......
I am told by those certified normal
I cannot continue to live in a world of dreams
My chosen state of existence society will not accept
So says the physiologist with tiny black eyes
I, however, disagree with his professional opinion
And his droll advice I will most adamantly reject
I prefer my fantasies of sunken Atlantis
Of warlock’s, fairies and mischievous elves
Talking ageless trees and witches hollows
......