Fictional Paintbrush: Mind Of A MadMan

Fictional Paintbrush: Mind Of A MadMan

A Poem by The Cunning Linguist
"

Step into the mind of a lunatic...

"
Something's in the air tonight; my spirit is amiss,
the atmosphere caresses like a dead grandmother's kiss,
the wind blows like a garden tool to keep my language clean,
the moonlight hits the chrome 380; makes my right hand gleam.

I turn from out the open window; dancing shadows boast,
the room is bare except the bed that's more compact than most,
the woman laying on it; color skin like buttered toast,
she's just a tad bit nervous being handcuffed to the posts.

I look at her imagining it's Lisa bounded there,
which isn't hard to do since they both have that same brown hair,
that sparkles when the sunlight hits it from a mile away,
I hope that God forgives me since this girl will die today.

I still can't get to Lisa; there's an order that restrains,
the judge thought me insane like muy loco in the brain,
they kept me locked in chains while all 4 seasons went and came,
I now will show the lot of them how deeply true love stains.

Her body as I walk towards her trembles out of fear,
I know for sure she sees the gun but I don't really care,
but then she starts to cry around the sock which gags her mouth,
my left hand grips a hunting knife; forgot I had it out.

In standing there I see her eyes; a smoky color gray,
it makes me think of Lisa back when we were both ok,
but time stands still for none as life progresses day by day,
old memories like smoke just dissapate and fade away.

The room door kicks in suddenly; will wonders ever cease?
It looks as though somebody went and holla'd at police,
before I can inquire on who dimed me to the fuzz,
three bullets hit my chest and spine as I then hit the rug.

Through the ensuing madness that I now bear witness to,
I feel those slugs have stopped by vertabre and chipped a few,
cause I feel no sensation from my chin descending down,
they saved this one but I've left many women all through town.....

I love you Lisa….

©2011
The Cunning Linguist

© 2014 The Cunning Linguist


Author's Note

The Cunning Linguist
This is one of my attempts at a poetic short story from 2011.

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Added on July 8, 2014
Last Updated on July 8, 2014
Tags: Poetry, Fiction, Short Story, Dark, Wordplay

Author

The Cunning Linguist
The Cunning Linguist

Wanaque, NJ



About
Born & raised in Newark, NJ, T.C.L. started writing poetry at age 14 and continues to let a wide variety of topics influence his writing and is not afraid to tell it how he feels it, no matter who get.. more..

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