Now I  think in poetry there is a line in my mind like one that I have drawn in the sand
separating my sanity from my insanity but
With my high tides and low tides the line has become so thin it's like a trip wire waiting for an explosion that erases the line.
I've Crossed that line. The grass may not have been greener on the other side but beyond that field is a land I had never seen
I have discovered I am a dreamer of insanity
My mind is consumed by beautiful pastels of stories That i wish were reality
My thoughts they are indeed treacherous
Electrons moving like traffic in the city sending signals and hallucinations so vivid I lose track of what is real and what is not, I am tricked by false memories
That are destroyed by my harsh realities
I am a breather of instability
My lungs, they fill with poison
And never beg for air
They crave their nirvanic Asphyxiation
A mixture that is toxic to my brain
This Further Supplements my insanity
I myself am a consumer of depravity
My body devours the hedonistic side
A craving for flesh in a ****** sense This is done gently at first to watch her tense then loose Its cut in sadistics way
She is a ******* so our days are made
marks we make are beautiful but never meant to stay
I am madness
Crazy in content
Beautiful in art
Unsavory at first
But preferred long term
I think in poetry
This is my blessing and my curse

-Mr. Morningstar