Kicked at the corners of eyes
Blind spots creating madness
Their names cross hearts
Like razors cutting the throats
Of hand holding paper dolls
Spending time spinning wild
Cradling tendencies focused
On the abscesses in their minds
They holds the answers, hon
If you like all your answers spun
They’ll weave sorrowful stories
Drawing an x marks the spot
On the intentions you’ve undone
They’ll eat you alive
And you won’t care
Because you’ve been fed lines
You’ll no longer be able to live without

14 thoughts on “CREATING MADNESS

  1. Bleeding life from a thousand paper cuts
    Comparing former love and future hurts
    What was light is turned to darkness thus
    Concede, for it is never only words

    One truth too many – but ne’er meant to appall:
    Words so unwanted they seem fictional
    Now apply to extricate from your enthrall
    Admit that love is never unconditional

    Haphazard tangent on a road of sighs
    No intention e’er designed to set my sights
    Existence shunned – it must no more belie
    And alter course. You set your world to rights.


  2. Such is how a cartographer of vignettes, writes, spills in both in ink and dye at the torn corners to each hand woven map, much a little hidden in the invisible, its peripheral a story in flesh and bone, breathing, tasting a world in how it shares companionship and conversation.


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