When You're Insane

When you're insane
everyday is new, and the voices
keep you company, speaking
in tongues you understand,
insights imported into compartments
of the mind; a sense of wonder

follows you, carries you. You leave
reality far behind, entering a world
of finger colors and pupil touch, smelling
words as delicate bouquets, blood nail
written on invisible walls, fascination
with red drop saliva flowing on a clear page.

And you grab clouds, squeeze them dry;
paint by numbers grass and flowers, seen
in integers, x never equals what they say it does.

But you know the answer

and the answer is whatever you say,
a consensus of many, and one; you
were born undone, and you like it this way

because real can be so boring....



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