I would make you my muse,
If I could only
See you better,
And more reliably.

It is glimpses alone, now,
And visions imagined,
That keep me crawling.

Two roads diverged in my psychosis.
I took the one well-travelled,
And it has made all the difference.

Don't you see ?
I don't want to sleep,
Because I don't
Want to wake up.

Great pain can be liberating.
It can lead to the place where
There is no mind,
Where your sense of limits and boundaries
Is dissolved,
And there is a temporary sense of
Freedom from the world.

I have heard that great joy does the same thing,
But I wouldn't know.

Floating with the leaf,
I reached at last the
High point of the current,
After which came the dizzying falll
Down, as the wind died,
And the golden light
Rose up to meet me.

Do you want to live?
Why, why do you want to live?
Why drag around this piece of meat,
Spending all your energy to keep it
On the brink of death, to keep it
From falling over?

Watercolor trickles in from the edges of the window,
Smudging out the clear sky.
I flee the angry bucketfuls of oily paint,
That splash and smear the smooth floor below.
Finally I can run no more,
And I am pounded into red, white and brown,
Adding to the beautiful photograph below me,
Stretching out to the horizon.