madness, a taste
the taste of a scent
permeating in every cell of your body
a face without eyes
a secluded thought
a violent sound that reverberates every inch of your being
madness, an uncut umbilical cord
that wraps around your neck
as you're spit from the womb of sanity
into the abyss that lies inside your head
madness, penetrates illusion
walks of the waters of eternity
while drowning in the vapor of its own tears
madness, a soul choking on reality
being swallowed whole by the sky
while making love to the moon
like a dead virgin in heat
madness, believes
it buys, it sells
mass produces and consumes
and always wants more
madness, a walk in the park
with a paranoid silhouette of yourself
following the trail of tattered souls
you've left behind
madness is volition
it's kerouac and ginsberg
blowing their minds on benzedrine nights
while jesus hangs from the cross
and buddha tangos down broadway
smoking a cigar
madness, hotel rooms
from the bottom of a bottle
a shattered glass
and praying continuously for conclusion
madness, never knowing
always there
and screams the silence
of your internal decay to no one
madness, corruption, dysfunction
undressing women with your eyes closed
lust at all costs
crawling between the sheets of an empty bed
and balling the memories that just won't go away
madness, police sirens
junky nightmares
seducing your mind
and smiling while you're slowly dying inside
madness is a baby in a garbage can
jonesing for crack
madness begs for quarters
to help fill the void of its very own desires have created
madness crawls to the door a million times or more
but still doesn't know how it opens
madness lies its way to hell
swears its telling the truth
looks back at you from the mirror
yet you still fail to recognize it
madness, the morning you wake up all alone
with the whole world gazing through your window
madness writes down this poem
madness, always madness
Back to The Poetry of James Meany
