I see ant lines make a trail on paper
Etching out thoughts I thought to have never been thought
I see scenic interpretations of my mind's landscape
Hills, trees, mountains and rivers.
Painting and sculpting all at once
I unravel more than I believe is possible.
So complex, tiniest details of a fine mosaic art

And with  those minute details
I sit down with a mug of coffee
Here in, the cool evening breeze
I weave a tale and thread a story.
And as I write with this hot headed fervor
I see nothing but the gates into my mind,
Open and welcoming, patient and enduring.
Leading me by the hand
Strapping me up for an adventure.

Now, in my own little world
Might take a little more than a thunderstorm  
To bring me out of this trance
Oh no, this world I create and paint
My deft strokes and personal touches,
This one's for my keeping,
This one's my piece of art.

Yes, you look at me and see
Nothing but incoherency  
Sitting in a dark room
Talking to myself
Scribbling nonsense.
Nonsense?!
No!
Just the musings
Of a mad woman !