The poor thing got
lost in the escape.
And she was still hungover
from the childhood terror.
Her personality was
ruined--redolent with
the first flowers of
madness.

She made a pretend
world, full of delusions.
A house of cards that
was laden with
lunacy, her insanity
became safe and dependent
on her never taking
responsibility for her
actions--she was a
pawn for the adage,
Hurt people Hurt people,
like Blanche from
A Streetcar Named Desire,
and
Don Quixote,
Her world crumbled and she climbed
into the abyss,
when she looked
deeply into the
mirror of reality.

The waves of these oceans
Crash upon my drowning body.
Seeing patterns in the sun,
Slowly slipping from the reality
I've been placed in.

As water fills my lungs, I dig for open land
But water fills my open hands,
And I know what to expect.

Let's dissect this thought process.
I understand now that my slowly slipping mind will leave me drowning in the fear
Of peers fearing for me.
I'll begin to Forget things they said,
And things I love as this insanity consumes me.

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Sane anymore.

If insanity is truly a blissful ignorance,
then take my mind so my heart can be free,
set it on fire and gift the ashes to the wind.
If I shall burn, then I burn like Icarus,
euphorically and foolishly in love.

I am a caricature of humanity
- a picture of its seething bowels.

I am its sloshing,
quivering, yet wholly earnest intestines
made manifest - I am,
the inside-out freak show
we all crave
dancing before your eyes
oh, and what a feast of eloquent gizzards you witness!

Feast your eyes, my friends!

I am what you wish you weren't
yet know you could be
as you yearn to be as free as me
all your shame and volatile desires
all your sadness and madness
all your dreamful bliss
I profess it daily
in an ode to you, my fathers and mothers,
in an ode of love for absurdity,
I am the cartoon character made free of its stage
the puppet made free of its strings
the loon, made free of his rage,
a benign insanity,
not capable of harming a germ.

Don't pass by
by all means
gawk
it's my pleasure that you do so
breathe my callousness in
shudder at the thought of being so exposed
having all your human nature bleeding there
like my crying eyes
as I tell you of all my past loves
and how I still love them
yes
even the meatloaf
still eating it
that baby towel
still snuggling it
that algebra homework?
Still completing it
and there's a missing grade somewhere
in a dusty book in a warehouse
imagine
how I'd creep in,
decades from now,
hours before my death,
open that tattered grade-book,
pen myself an A+ for my immaculately completed work
- fist pump the air!
Take that Ms. Cramsworth! I may not have beaten algebra,
but I beat you!

Die right there
in that warehouse
amongst all the other freaks.
There's Bigfoot, who slipped accidentally one day, got impaled by a branch, then called 911 - he had no health insurance, that's all she wrote. Bigfoot's just another disenfranchised-American statistic now. Bigfoot's last painful hours were spent taking selfies with holocaust deniers and people fashioning MAGA hats - some with rifles for effect - it was then Bigfoot regretted voting for Trump and only then. You were just rudely-awakened from having sympathy for Bigfoot, weren't you? Poor baby. Save our souls.
Then there are the cryogenically frozen heads of the Illuminati we're all worried about - they're trying to sleep until humanity can make them superhuman bodies.
A flying saucer that was alien in so far that it was actually a time-machine from our distant future that brought people back to warn us of an all-consuming genocidal calamity, but they spoke a language we didn't understand, had genetically surpassed us, and therefore were unrecognizable to our labs, and we took their highly-advanced babbling as acts of war when they tried to **** the Illuminati heads - killed the so-called aliens then, so tragic - ate their gizzards for research. Now we're all doomed to die... Their bodies were lain next to the Illuminati heads. Centuries later, the same couple, now janitors from the freak warehouse, see themselves, find the time-machine-saucer, and start the time-loop again... inadvertently causing the end of humanity because they messed up the timeline.

... and that's exactly why I never did my homework.
Humanity is doomed to die in some distant future caused by the doom-couple and so I refused to put a brick in the wall. I refused because all I was was a...nother brick in the wall and I hated it.

Because as fascinating as I am.
As absurd as I am.
As much of a human marvel as I am.
I don't matter. I matter the least.

And so that's why I had to die in that off-the-books warehouse,
full of priceless and unmentionable artifacts.
They wouldn't ever put me there, but I had to die with the legends.
I had to give my life meaning somehow.
If I can't live a legend, I will die one... by the way the janitors put me in the trash out back anyway.
I end up in an east-Asian landfill somewhere, kicked in the face by barefoot sweatshop kids who just so happened to make the sneakers on my very feet. Isn't that poetic justice? What a send-off!

And so isn't that all a satisfying and cathartic end,
giving closure to the most absurd poem,
with the most random details,
wasn't that fun?

It's a little quiet
One day it'll be an all grown up big quiet
But for now, it sneaks around in the brushes
Avoiding predators and spreading anxiety.
The birds hush as it passes,
The wind stops bothering the leaves,
The cats lie flat against the ground
and the dogs bare their teeth at empty spaces.
Then at the behest of some mysterious conductor
The world burst forth into life with renewed vigour,
The little quiet passes and successfully survives the day
Tomorrow It'll be a little bigger until

The brain is a very big place
And the skull is a very small space
The thoughts overflow into the night
Tainting the darkness with a morbid light

I don’t mean to ruin your blackness
To corrupt you sanity with my madness
I tried to stop, such a beautiful thing to save
But it rushes out with a vengeance, an all-consuming wave

her hair was covering
the most flawless parts of her face
her beautiful mouth
was shouting the most ugliest words
the stares from the spectators were devastatingly blank
vapid, like only strangers posses
her body was twisted and contorted
her voice was raw and distorted
blame was being thrown as naturally unproductive
as the most troublesome delinquent
all the while ignoring the human
inside the woman on the pavement
her hair was covering
the most flawless parts of her face
in the morning she will not remember this mistake
all she will have is the labels and little bruises of shame
she will see the beautiful parts of herself
and have nobody to share them with
she will realise her only freedom is inside silence
she will close her mouth and fade away
the conclusion of a woman gone insane