i.

Us poet's art the sane one's
The rest of the world;
Is insanity.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

I find that all of the people i make friends with
Are off kilter
People that are broken beyond my repair
And yet
I try to put them back together  again

They do say that birds of a feather flock together

Maybe its because The sane people make me feel
Like the odd one out
Or Maybe its because the Crazies
Make me feel sane

But anyways, i can already see what will be the death of me

When I'm with you I feel safe
When I'm with you I feel sane
When im with you I don't feel alone
When im with you I have no worries
When I'm with you I feel what I dont feel with anyone else

I'm not hard,
I'm scared.
I thought the cherry was the birch.
When the cloud cleared
I was still afraid.

At my best
I accept death
As a necessary search, wary
Of philosophies
That assign us souls but not the trees.

Nonetheless
I want long life, yes,
I want to plant my seed and walk the wilderness.
But not yet.
First I must just sit.

Sit and feel the pain
That keeps me sane.
Eat my meal quietly and remain
A guest
In the body I know best.

This morning in the east
The sun rose on the lake. Again
I breathed. I was blessed
And thought to say
Life is not a curse.

Somewhere between sane and insane dwells the lonely poet's soul.

I'm driving places I've never been
And I'm not talking of sins
I'm talking the chemicals in my brain
The ones that make me feel sane