It's blades,
it's hammering,
it's a head-ache from an old testament god.

It's losing,
It's lost,
it's disarranging your mind.

It's rape,
it's drugs,
it's a shock from a deflibulator.

It's being homeless,
It's love's labor lost,
It's misplacing your heart.

It's long distance love.

Glancing at my face,
you don’t see it's a mask
to cover the pock-marks
of Schizophrenia.

The brother eyes of
Charles Manson,
my bladed eyes
are blunted by
Prozac and Lexapro.

Ah...my lips
are the lips
of a Crazy;
always smiling.
Want a taste?
I’m told my kiss
unlocks the furnace of Hell.

This sensitive mask
quickly dissolves
when studied,
receding into
a narcissistic skull
of left-over emotion.

Scott, my friend
in the white coat,
tries to discover my ailment,

But I've secreted
these gifts away,

I've buried them
into this opaque flesh.