a gentle madness wash over me
defecating birds in gardens flee
a triumphant blow to the ego felt
when insanity does become me,
ancient mariners brought me here
to this land of the unencumbered
where south side moss only grows
and wild eggs fried on flat rocks,
swamps slither around like snakes,
in the muck, mire, and mildew...
behind the eyes live the crimes of
one thousand souls or more,
each one mourning the death of
the others as if no recourse exists,
save the one I alone offer them,
when given to me the sins of
their forefathers and families.
not a saint or the devil am I but
rest assured no friend of yours,
my delusions are my own and
the fit very well on me... I am
the one who steals from you so
you can live a life of blessedness.
September 6, 2025
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