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artemesia-blastsidePoems
Sometimes I wonder. I feel I'm going two kinds of crazy. the first is ordinary madness the second is extraordinary insanity. Yet somehow, they mix into a great fog. Impenetrable. They'll say, She's come undone. Slowly unraveled, like an old knit sweater each thread floating up to dissolve in the sky or is it the sea? one's just a bit wetter It happened slowly. Such a shame. Like the frog that was boiled; she hopped out a bit too late. one word at a time slipped from her grasp like that one tiny eggshell taunting "TORO! TORO!" can't grab a word by its horns. I ad lib, substituting a synonym. I snap out of the sky(ocean) regrounding myself. The madness is perhaps early Alzheimer's. I'm too young to grow old. The insanity feels more like I'm trapped but outside my head. A balloon a careless child let go of. I drift dream. wonder. unraveling continuously. I think my problem is that I don't believe in reality anymore. How do I know England exists? How do I know we landed on the moon? How do I know that my friend is real? How do I know I'm not dreaming? How do I know I'm not someone else's dream? Once you think about it- you realize You don't know - and you can't prove- Anything I suppose that's why I believe in God. He grounds me. Nothing else makes sense.
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May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
Like Some Kind of Madness
Sometimes I wonder. I feel I'm going two kinds of crazy. the first is ordinary madness the second is extraordinary insanity. Yet somehow, they mix into a great fog. Impenetrable. They'll say, She's come undone. Slowly unraveled, like an old knit sweater each thread floating up to dissolve in the sky or is it the sea? one's just a bit wetter It happened slowly. Such a shame. Like the frog that was boiled; she hopped out a bit too late. one word at a time slipped from her grasp like that one tiny eggshell taunting "TORO! TORO!" can't grab a word by its horns. I ad lib, substituting a synonym. I snap out of the sky(ocean) regrounding myself. The madness is perhaps early Alzheimer's. I'm too young to grow old. The insanity feels more like I'm trapped but outside my head. A balloon a careless child let go of. I drift dream. wonder. unraveling continuously. I think my problem is that I don't believe in reality anymore. How do I know England exists? How do I know we landed on the moon? How do I know that my friend is real? How do I know I'm not dreaming? How do I know I'm not someone else's dream? Once you think about it- you realize You don't know - and you can't prove- Anything I suppose that's why I believe in God. He grounds me. Nothing else makes sense.
Thanks to Muse for the title.
artemesia-blastside
Written by
artemesia-blastside
American
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
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