My madness

I may sometimes appear mad to the outside world, but no more mad than the outside world appears to me

The light it casts a shadow, and the darkness lights the room

I lay in writhing comfort as my closed eyes pierce the gloom

The solid ground once underfoot has given way to smoke and sand,

the beating of my hearts replaced with springs and rubber bands

 

And i cannot feel my eyes, just the lies that lay behind,

my fingers grasp and close, directions hard when you are blind

My feet they trip and stumble, finding toes from out my heel

and the strengthening of backbones means i find it hard to kneel

 

The words i utter twist and turn, and bite the face that feeds their birth,

 I sob instead of laughing, and my howling shows such mirth,

 and the whispers in my head are painting pictures in my mind,

 the artistry of fleshless fingertips are etched to help remind

 

And the gnawing in my gut becomes a gnashing tooth lined maw,

and the twinkle in my eye becomes a diamond without flaw,

and i feel myself becoming, twisting, turning, changing shape,

sweat and blood run from my pores, and journey on my nape

 

And i look upon the stranger staring back from mirror’s form,

there is thunder in those eyes stemming from that inner storm,

for i cut the mooring ropes that had anchored me to me,

and as i watch myself grow smaller there is so much i could be

 

And i listen to my chorus of discordant babbling voices,

for i opened up their cells amongst my spate of desperate choices,

and although they screech and whisper I recognise familiar tones,

and the mutterings of madmen comfort more than one alone

 

And i find a certain sanity in the midst of all their calls,

for my madness makes more sense than what i find beyond these walls