I felt like the foolish American

My  translator book in hand

The streets are charming in Paris

A Britain I hunger for lamb

I saw a bright colored Bistro

Umbrellas over white tables

people eating and laughing

probably telling rescae French tales

i cannot speak much French

My little cheat did not come with me

She had other things to do

Like doing other professors or two

So, I sat down quietly and waited

A waiter came up to me

All I could say was, La moule en folie

He blinked and smiled and beckoned

me to follow. We went into a narrow alley

then up winding stairs. He knocked.

A woman’s husky voice said, “come in.”

She was lying on a bed fully naked

and pink as a salmon. The waiter

held out his hand. “Monsieur,la moule en folie.”

stars and stardust fall to freedom
from the press corpse,
from the incessant demand of chemical crises.
crowds ache for love or a substitute
and false amore is what they have.
love is folie a deux-
[the shared madness of two.]
attachment is an affliction,
infatuation is disease leaping from remission,
with deadly symptoms.
red roses lead to black coffin doors,
roses dropped on floors
from vases shattered,
and life is the water spilling from the stems.

golden hair won't keep me docile-
blue eyes and a smile
are weapons of mass destruction-
cities sunk and flags risen
from the depths of inhumanity.
it's all for you, Helen, and humankind will never
perceive its aftereffects,
its hangover headache
sprawled over the world on a bad day.
little city partylights and shiny beer bottles
broken upon the concrete
covering the grass.
reflections of insanity upon the glass.

devilish, the temptress,
the succubus, a mistress
sent by Him, to spin doubt into
the spiderwebbed life of family trees
split in two by axes, divorces
to fifty percent, no-
no wedding band-aid will stop this flood.
abandonment.
neglect gets to a child's head-
can't help but wonder if
they were the cause of this.
little anchors,
keeping the heart in one place-
an anchored rubber band that demoness
stretched and snapped.
the relapse gave her whiplash, and
the stepdad whipped the boy's back, and
the boy grew up and
found a girl to take his pain to.
she gave him five stunted children,
with eyes hollow and glazed,
a mechanical response to a command.

lack of emotion only seems cruel
to those on the other side.
lack of flourish means nothing
to those who grew up to grey skies.

chains and handcuffs keep stardust grounded,
remains from a nebula which
birthed a black hole.
straight razors and pinky nails
teach fledglings to reach for the sky
and never fall back down.
glass ceilings never seemed so
breakable- tiptoe upsidedown
and reach the other side
before you fall back down to the real world.

angels have no eyes.
angels have no souls.
angels judge and leave the helpless for below.
cliffsides crumble and clouds dissipate,
and the devil lends a hand-
he is helping sinners make it up to him.
in his face sit eyes gleaming brightly;
there are teeth grinning, off-white-
he is human, though sadistic
and he understands your plight.
the devil is forgiving,
and you understand nothing, because you
are nothing.
you are nothing.

stars and stardust fall to freedom, and the devil takes in all.

folie à duex
means madness for two
and in a way, that’s what we are
two fools who share the same madness

folie à duex
i think i was the one who went mad first
the one who fell, the one who fell fast and hard
or maybe it was you, you were the one who pushed me

folie à duex
we were climbing a hill
i was there behind you, then you pushed me
yep, you were the one who went mad first

folie à deux
i fell
but you still caught me
even if you were the one who pushed me
maybe i’m wrong

folie à deux
whoever went mad first doesn’t matter
we are both fools
two fools
sharing the same madness