Non Compos Mentis

The chaotic laughter, the raving cries;
It is I whom they openly mock.
“Will you stop singing all your lies?”
The fool asks for other paths I walk.
These words form into the rain of my eyes. 

They ask, “Have you fallen into a rabbit hole?”
“No, do you dwell in a cave?” I kindly ask.
“Wake up. Open your eyes.” Am I a mole?
For I cannot, I shall not don the clown’s mask.
For myself, there is no one who can console.

Detained not inside the prison, but outside.
My eyes see the dark; my ears hear silence.
All are shades of gray, the music died.
Fantasies of my sanity’s absence:
Haunting both waking life and at the bedside.

Dragons dance and the heavens war,
Beneath them my heart beats in my head.
The voices claim me as their savior.
The plague of the harlequins I dread.
Or is it my doubts I ignore?

Restless, both illusion and truth are the same.
Good and evil: Both are fragmentations.
Are my ill perceptions one to shame?
These may be wicked imaginations.
Yet, my sanity is no person’s to blame.

“Does he think this is Wonderland?” Asked them.
They burn me alive with their tongues of fire.
Because I inquire, they shall condemn.
Even so, if my truths are of a liar,
May all be as fiction; I sew my own hem.

My queer senses are no one’s my own.
The true phantom is society.
These visions are together sewn.
My gap from norms are anxiety,
Yet I think, so I am. Let it be known.


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