Inside Out
The hairs from out my head grow wild—
uncontrolled like the brains they shoot from;
a gray gleam at both ends, a twist and a curl
one way one day, another the next.
My beard sprouts wild from the words
caught waiting there in jaw and throat;
seldom spoken, always felt, always
churning beneath the aging skin.
All my insides are itching to get out,
to boil over, regardless of form or prettiness;
as if the world would treat them well,
or wish them anything except return.
But there they are, moving all my blood
from one dark recess to another—
taking in the necessary air, from lungs darkened
by too damn many late night cigarettes.
What escapes is just a pale reflection
of all the worlds within
that shift and turn and burn
with lights that no one sees,
far reaches and stilly deeps that keep
on and on; hidden with no seeker.
2
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Posted by EntheogenFanI wrote this about a crazy girl who I loved like crazy. She made my entire life feel like insanity.
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