I can be close to normal as you claim –
haven't yet gone volatile, and insane;
The world can pull at your heart strings,
emotions can pimp you out if you let them;
One.... uneven tug,
a mess spreads about that would erect a mountain: swept under a rug;
You're going under,
stampeding thunder;
Psychedelic rush,
secrets flowing from the sounds of a mocking thrush;
Speak when spoken to: as such,
soft tone – a whispered hush.
YOU ARE READING
Between an Aphrodisiac & a Loathing Place.
PuisiA collection of poetry that has been written from me (and my constant battle with wrecking insanity). Some will make sense; some will leave you with a big ole' question mark; but, like myself, not everything can be precise and make definite sense...