I paint on a wall in my asylum
with an ink invisible
for those who lack vision
or for those who lack sight
only a mind cradled with loved
then thrown to shatter
A mind who thrives alone
yet yearns to love of another
can see what an invisible artist
can conjure alive
Do I dance in the shadows
so that nobody can see?
Or do I dance
for those who can see only at night
I cry not for the hearing
but for the deaf who may hear it
for hearts that'd been broken
and yet fixed another
They who shall find my lunacy an art
can appreciate my drawings on the wall of my asylum
with a sight bestowed by the insanity we then possess

Tied together in slavery
mopping the canvas with blood borrowed
by a palette that their master choses
withheld the right to bleed their color
they run like deranged halfwits
against their choice of a destination
or a chance to paint a different picture
whatever she choses we will but portray
However she presses us, we all shall obey
not a soldier out of line
not a spine out of posture
yet a mind unwillingly surrendered
to the hand of their tyrant captor

I passed a man
On the street today.
He said Hello
But not his name.

I went to the cemetery
With respects to pay
This is the second time
I saw this man that day.

He'd been there a while
It was easy to tell.
Such a strange place
Where someone would dwell.

I said Hello,
But no answer he gave.
Though I learned his name
When I looked at his grave.

May you please lay my weary head to rest
as the blade erupts with rubies in Spring.
I sit in my ivory tower's nest,
pulling puppets by their shadow-spun string.

I ponder and play, squeezing idle joy.
Wondering, perhaps I shall see you soon.
If not, I return to my tepid ploy.
A sallow moth, rotted in his cocoon.

A clock strikes and the siren's song erupts.
Yellow wallpaper reveals my sin's seams.
I close my eyes and this fear I shall disrupt.
I must embrace the love within my dreams.

I miss places
I only went to
in my heart