Voices

To love insanity would be to bleed 

lips that never kiss. 

So mine remain untouched, 

except for madness’s hush, 

which presses them together 

and makes me smile. 

I bide my time 

waiting for a muse to return to; 

whom quieted me often 

with talk of touch me now; 

never of love. 

Recover, 

mother I can't be sane to remain 

in the house you worked so hard to 

leave behind 

times door 

lies a force 

whose name I will not mention 

because that muse is mine. 

Now I'm fine. 

Damn this one who comes for my mind.

2 

He is right without fail; 

What the hell, 

It's easy to be perfect in a lover's eyes. 

But spy, you were dreadful. 

Call me beautiful; 

I'll stop to enjoy a meal that way. 

Sway I will 

to take a pill 

that stops the pain 

like Tylenol. 

Help me fall 

into learned lessons 

that call 

need to hasten Heaven. 

Everlasting was that damned vow we took. 

A book. 

A voice. 

A choice. 

I now 

call him muse 

because I refuse to listen to silence. 

“You're good”,

3 

he said never. 

So clever, 

his way, 

wit and charm. 

You no longer exists 

because Christ Himself said 

you did not. 

But he only took your soul and skin; 

Low and behold it was within 

my own mind 

you will find 

your reflection. 

Selah, my love, 

beloved muse, 

I choose to create, 

for 

from you 

I died like a flower 

in too much rain. 

The pain 

took me to places 

I could not breathe 

but see I did

4 

a different me. 

Pragmatic pleas 

to stop; 

be rational now. 

“You're better”, 

says subconscious thought. 

He's not lost 

like I was. 

Family, friends, 

I had to make amends; 

To what was, 

yes, 

perfect delusion. 

Confusion? 

No. 

I understood finally 

what it meant to be 

alive out to sea, 

deep in schizophrenia