Patchwork Poem

I find myself in pursuit of these confessions on the wind

My voice, unsound and corroded,
being dulled by long years of silence
the quiet like rust poured down my throat

I weep for a world not gone mad
addicted to dreams and impossible things
where logic can be contained
once words speak out unafraid

Finding it impossible to untangle my mind from this dark obsession.
I try to manufacture happiness . . .  one pill at a time

I thought of nothing in a moment of aught
and oh the wonders that it taught

imagine no words, no sounds of the mind
the silence of a soul, as nirvana it finds

and in this absence of sound
quiet your mind and listen

because nothing is everything . . . every things nothing
a meditation into yourself will show the nothing of all

and you may learn while you contemplate that you are
slightly and pleasantly intoxicated with silence

Extinguishing myself into the darkness,
into this midnight surrender
My paranoia is sheltered tonight
in such evil machinery
on the dark side of my mind

One can weave through darkness,
almost without noticing they miss the light 
slowly corroding what little brutal beauty is left

Unexpected fury from the harmless
is almost beautiful in its madness
lost in the moment, I smother

resisting the sudden urge to look behind me
for all those monsters I should have outgrown

Cruelty has a color
a most unforgiving black,
the light and dark merges
as I bang my knees
and skin the very love off my soul

My young soul breathes in circles and spirals
sampling the very edge of the horizon
as the night exhales, I can hear its impatient sigh
Our breath falling into a poetic graceful cadence

lazy shades of blissful feelings roll through my mind
It reminds me of the virtue found in children’s laughter,
You just close your eyes and for a moment dream
as echoes of sound still whisper in your mind,
like the sweet confectionary taste left behind from wine

veiling our unspoken opium dreams

seeking only to find anything of value,
whatever are their sins . . .

my innocence, acid washed on the dark side of silence . . .
the stillness in response, reaction and reply
Expelled in my dreams of
Misery and remembrances
Unaware and at peace in a riot of color

white petals beg to be colored
they whisper to me to lend them my brush
and speak to me in shaded tones
they too wish to be dripped in radiance

I know all the sands of time
will not ease my sadness and sorrow
for sanity’s endurance ends still in the blink of an eye
in the withered cliche of every grave
because we are all but glittering dust in the end

a touch of sanity laced with madness
pretty illusions are what the sane hold true

I still wear your words like a shroud of jagged lace
reveling in the feel of them

suspended in time and space, the absence of you, passes slowly
as I anticipate your return, the last lingering light gives way to the blue black night

pointing out your artifice
and each conspiracy of your design
a once abstract idea is penned in color
like a renegade rainbow just beyond my reach

as day falls away like raindrops from a storm
tattooing the shadows a shade or two darker
smudging my once black and white existence

the shadows growing ever deeper,
time stretching to eternity and back

I had a thought that slipped away
a fleeting moment only yesterday

You need only quiet the mind to listen
Cause if you know where you’ve been
then your memory can tell the future

I find comfort in the Cheshire’s grin,
and feel solace in this nightmare within a dream

Charming horrors surround us in
this boundless mystery, this savage garden
and even though tattered and torn
bruised and broken, my insanity holds
the power to charm in its raw beauty

These words often scream of me ... when no one
else seems to notice, me within my words, left unspoken.