we're all mad here.
everyone has had a taste of
at the edge
of the mind
there's a dark door,
to reign free.
it's the home
and madness peeks out,
it bursts open
have a taste
passion leads to a certain insanity
at least in my mind it does
but then again who can trust me
the lover who desires more
yet I like to think I am scholar
the student of your love
you taught me much
yet you never taught me enough
my desires remain untamed
and my mind a rambling mess
and as I write these words
I come to realize
that I am no scholar or lover
but a madman you left behind
Men Without Faces
One of them is watching from the shadows again. They think I can't tell, but I can. I can feel their eyes on me, now.
Right over there!
I know, I know. Just my imagination, right? He’s not really there, I must be sick, yada, yada, yada.
You have no idea how much reality I see now. They are hunting for me. He’s probably being drawn to your dog.
Yes, your dog!
No, I like him just fine, but I don’t think they do. I’m not sure why.
Shh! Wait! Don't look over there now!
I used to be like you. I had a nine-to-five, an apartment and a bank account. Hell, I even had a dog, once upon a time. That was before they came for me—the men without faces.
Just what I said! They have no faces!
I wonder how they talk to each other. I see them turn their empty hoods toward each other, sharing some kind of sinister secret, but their faces are never there. Do you think they read minds?
I don't know!
The government probably, or those aliens that run things in D.C. I’ve been hiding for years. I used to think I was safe when I was sleeping, but now, I’m not so sure. I never really get to relax, because they always find me. Just like that one in the alley over there.
Of course you don’t see him!
Haven’t you been listening? It’s ME they are after—for now. If I were you, I’d invest in a good warm jacket. They sometimes lose track of you, if you are warm. Unless you have eaten peanut butter. They can always find peanut butter.
No, I don’t know why!
Go on, then. Go back to your safe little world of shopping malls and surfing the internet and electric ovens and clean underwear. You might consider getting rid of the dog though. I think dogs can see them too, and don’t like them at all. See? He’s looking right at that guy over there.
Crap! I think he saw me looking at him!
Crazy? I used to think that way too, until I saw one up close. Eyes without a face, hiding in the depths of its hood. I wish they’d just go away, but they never do.
Fine! Keep walking, mister! Who needs you, anyway?!
some days im the only one in my mind.
alone in a way i never am usually.
people think the madness comes from my friends,
the others inside me, inside my head, inside my mind, inside my stories.
but it comes from the times when all those people are scared away by society
and i am left to wonder
who am i without them?
who am i without seven other versions of me waiting to come out?
who am i when im on my own?
some days im the only one in my mind.
and on those days, run from me.
without my others to lean on, i never know what i might do.
i could kiss you, i could beat you half to death, and i wont remember it in the morning.
mad always has two meanings.
rage and crazy.
but for me the two arent all that seperate.
i sometimes dream about violent things.
but among my friends, im the only one,
and killing makes you a monster, no matter what the reason.
sometimes i dont know who i am.
sometimes thats a good thing,
because whatever lurks under my skin,
i dont want to meet it.
id rather hide behind an alternate version of me, one with a semblance of sanity,
than let loose the monster of identity.
I won’t know when it’s happened. When I’ve succumbed, finally. When my mind will slip quietly from here to, elsewhere. Will I sit unmoving as I live a pleasant life behind my unseeing eyes? Will the entreaties of my loved ones fall on deaf ears that hear only remembered words of days gone by or dreamed up in the mists of my addled mind? Will I awaken one morning and find myself alone with strangers that call me a name I don’t remember, entreat me to recall people and places that mean nothing to me, then cry when I don’t remember? Will I die in life, leaving those who love me to mourn while I still walk among them, a ghost that looks like me, emptied of all the memories made and shared, the years lived, the love given and received?
Worse still, will I have fleeting moments of lucidity? Will I have bursts of light in my darkened mind when I know that I have forgotten something, someone, very important? That what I can’t remember is causing harrowing pain? Will I briefly glimpse the world as it is, revealing my tenuous, no, nonexistent, grasp on reality? Will I reach out to caress the cheek of my beloved, glistening with tears, only to forget who and why I raised my hand toward him?
Or, worse yet, will the faces hidden in the bathroom marble and the cloudy sky, the voices that whisper in empty rooms, the shadows that move when the night is dark and moonless, become my reality? Will the face I have loved so long I know it better than my own become that of a monster? Will my nightmares wake and live, enveloping me in an endless dark night while I slumber awake, a living corpse to love and life, my face etched with terror, eyes ever turned inward to a world steeped in horror? Will I scream, trembling with fear, running from those to whom I once ran, who only wish to soothe and comfort?
I may not know when it’s happened. But, I know it will.
She cries out into the sky
Her thoughts spread like wild fire as her emotions rise and devour her mind
Clouds of painful disbelief surrounding her, the darkness settles in making its home in her heart
Days go by yet the streams of tears keep falling.
Why did you leave me all alone?
Can you see me loving you forever?
Now that you are gone I’m in pain every time I hear your name it drives me insane
Years go by and The pain of losing a lover and never wanting to meet another becomes far to familiar
On her death bed she cries out his name.
Love is madness, And it will drive you insane Well into your old age.
By Any Name.
Dick Cavett described it best.
He said at its worst,
if there was a cure for it
on your bedside table
and you simply had to reach out and take it,
it would require a strength you did not have.
Others afflicted have weighted in.
To Sylvia Plath it felt like a bell jar.
Black dogs is popular but not mean enough.
The dogs would have to be rabid, loose,
Slough of despond from a Welsh pundit sounds almost like
a poetic interlude.
The mean reds was Billie Holiday’s.
But sorry, Lady Day,
Country singers tell us time and again about
their plain old blues.
From William Styron came
And he should know.
It’s a thief, the sorriest kind.
It’s wilier than me, and
It steals my wit, my smile,
my every trace of ease, my very heart.
And turns out my lights
before it leaves.
the madness of my mind
screaming inside my head I can not fathom the world
it is real and tumbling and dishevling my mind
one moment is there and then gone. where did it go
the stillness of one moment is the movement of another
the resistance and pull of the motion of the world is stretching me until I break
I will soon be gone matter that no longer matters
in a million years I will be a star or in 100 maybe a petal of a flower
how ironinc to live a long life and still in the end basically acheive nothing
it will all be gone in an instant
I can't breathe
My head is going in circles
I can't take this anymore
I'm beginning to scratch my face, my eyes must come out
The voices say so, I must do as i'm told or the monsters will get me
They tell me to do things I wish I didn't have to
One day the cops will find me
Charge me with murder
I'm sorry son, they told me I had to