Being mad.
It’s not craziness
Not insanity.
It’s the hibernating monster inside if each of us
Breaking out for one split second,
One moment,
One day.
It gets harder and harder to be contained,
This monster devouring my soul,
Leaving me empty.
The source of my depression-
My sanity-
My pain and comfort.

Staring at the yellow toy car
The me from another time thinks:
“I want that”
The madness claws at my throat
Pushing the angel to do the devil’s working
Pushing me to get. That. Car.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I sing about it
Talk about it
Think about it
Dream about it.
But you wouldn’t know
Because you no longer listen.

My blanket.

Good Future/Beautiful


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s