Insanity is a somber flow of waters; Its rain above the gentle mind Is a murmur of moaning thoughts Ina crooked wind, a subtle chill In the distant breeze.
Suddenness like air breathed In torn skies, among the vivid blue, The thoughts collapsed to the startled Earth like a great ceiling of copper And shadow.
The Asylum beneath the slow shadows In a lunatic fringe upon thistle fields, Flowering Insanity's bloom like A vibrant Willow under a filtered sun.
The liquid pain in tangled clots Of distant sanity unlocking A rapid downpour of condensed Versions in reality's mixed afternoon.
The Asylum takes in the deep grief, The rain takes a pause, The day long and sad, In the greyish distance the light Hits though the smallest window.