The Madman in your Dreams

A poem of the insane, hiding in the outskirts of your brain.

I am a madman

breathing where normality is synonymous to

sanity.

I exist in the outskirts of humanity,

calmly smoking a condemned cigarette.

And, as your martyrs endorse spitting at my shoes

I stand naked and barefoot before you.

I watch as you avert your eyes.

You see not, yet I watch

your face as it

contently falls into a state of

childlike fear.

To you, I disappear in a veil of smoke.

A memory revoked, but in dream

In dream, I seem so real, so alive

and you lie awake in a cold swear, locking your doors

   -again and again-

you repose yourself by the subconscious

      assurance that

I am 

insane.

Contained, most likely, in an asylum

my piercing anarchist eyes 

restrained

  by the hold of a straight jacket.

When I am there, you can live your life

without question, 

without fear,

but for dreams when I reappear.