my thoughts are fatalistic
the inevitable dawning
on a driver skidding off a cliff
with a sinking feeling.
my mind paints with blood
the cuts that would sting
and sing
with a power releasing.
my crazy is a particular
type, the dark one
the hidden in the night
and never talked about one.
why scare people with reality?
why tear apart the pretty games
and smiles
with pain that can't be tamed?
so no one hears the thoughts
and the crazy bubbles up
comes out
in some imaginative ****-up.