It is asked what my mind sounds like,
And I tell them it is a beautiful hell.
It sounds like some distant memory,
So foggy it’s almost forgotten;
Like a dream you always loved
But never could quite marry.
I have become Lover to the moon,
In my searching for something great.
My mind is fuzzy;
It is filled with blizzard snow.
When I try to make sense of it all,
I lose my magic touch;
So instead I sit in the dark
And stare at the ceiling,
Knowing only how to miss–
Whether it be something real or simply this.
In this world we only know to suffer
And we learn to call it a gift.
We cannot trace back to where we began.
THe time has been set for all of man,
And it is running out.
What are we to do?
Must we sit back and watch Rome burn?
I haven’t a violin–
And at night day does return,
But only in pieces…
It can never be one.
Gross indifference from some after-life,
Ravens and doves echo through the night.
I think they are searching somewhere for a home
That I know they will never find.
They are doomed creatures–
Doomed of peace and doomed of love;
And yet they once held hands,
Betrothed to the sun.
You all walk through the hell that is my brain,
And you will find only rust and fired-rain;
You will feel only hurt and pain,
You will find my bed of nails already to be lain.
While the wealthy profit and prosper from greed,
With the poor…we lead.
And so to you, reader,
My heart I give;
For I fear both death and life,
Which can be no way to live.
We are cursed,
For we cannot unlearn our human nature–
So ask again what must my mind plays,
And I shall tell you all on the break of day,
Between shards of dawn and dusk,
On piano keys craft of elephant tusk.
You will listen until you break as well,
As day earlier did,
And then I will have no more to tell.
Forgive me for my mistakes,
But you forgot God’s only sin:
That he created us,
And he made us all but human.
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 2:29 PM UTC
It is asked what my mind sounds like,
And I tell them it is a beautiful hell.
It sounds like some distant memory,
So foggy it’s almost forgotten;
Like a dream you always loved
But never could quite marry.
I have become Lover to the moon,
In my searching for something great.
My mind is fuzzy;
It is filled with blizzard snow.
When I try to make sense of it all,
I lose my magic touch;
So instead I sit in the dark
And stare at the ceiling,
Knowing only how to miss–
Whether it be something real or simply this.
In this world we only know to suffer
And we learn to call it a gift.
We cannot trace back to where we began.
THe time has been set for all of man,
And it is running out.
What are we to do?
Must we sit back and watch Rome burn?
I haven’t a violin–
And at night day does return,
But only in pieces…
It can never be one.
Gross indifference from some after-life,
Ravens and doves echo through the night.
I think they are searching somewhere for a home
That I know they will never find.
They are doomed creatures–
Doomed of peace and doomed of love;
And yet they once held hands,
Betrothed to the sun.
You all walk through the hell that is my brain,
And you will find only rust and fired-rain;
You will feel only hurt and pain,
You will find my bed of nails already to be lain.
While the wealthy profit and prosper from greed,
With the poor…we lead.
And so to you, reader,
My heart I give;
For I fear both death and life,
Which can be no way to live.
We are cursed,
For we cannot unlearn our human nature–
So ask again what must my mind plays,
And I shall tell you all on the break of day,
Between shards of dawn and dusk,
On piano keys craft of elephant tusk.
You will listen until you break as well,
As day earlier did,
And then I will have no more to tell.
Forgive me for my mistakes,
But you forgot God’s only sin:
That he created us,
And he made us all but human.
a poem about struggling with mental illness, faith, and the unfairness of sin.