The Madman

So there goes the look of the madman

darting, constant

seemingly non-searching, 

a gaze travels low

eyes as grey

as every day

we're all just trying to hold on

to something that's so far gone

his hands are callous

his heartbeat, slow

people thousands of years ago

warm in their tents

minds weary

from no days work

the feet are wrapped in leather

and the bottle swings low.


I fear for many things

but one tops all others

I can't change anything

listening to music in my room

there must be soft beaches,


behind eyelids down

Just two moons

through the echo

of the dark

an eye for the sea

one for the stars

watching us worry

in our fast, white cars


His timing, deadpan

his eyes now gone

lost in the universe,

his war is one that's won

for the tide breathes deep

here in the cove

a hardened wrapped body

wrinkles cut deep

sky, low black clouds,

now lower


Spirits are vicious

they may not be with us

but actions stick

into everything we do

a madness that connects

pathways to highways

and highways to the stars

don't let the darkness eat you up

eyelashes fluttering

eyebrows low

and now dreams

seem to unravel it all

for a thousand voices talk

here in this place

where we bury the dead

with rocks to keep their names

as our names.

And they call us mad.

The End

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