All was gold
As the road to Damascus
The first time that I found sweet madness
So they took me to the river
Certain of death
But I learned to survive on very little air
And a fear never to rest
Taking on nervous energy in passing
Haunted by memories of people I've been
Denying blame everyday
A woman in a white veil on every street corner
A dove fallen into ink
Painting Rorschach blots with flapping wings
Down the city streets
A mental tick with an unexpected physical manifestation
Each emotion a mock form
Shape shifting in the dreamscape
Subconscious spatiotemporal warnings
A repressed necropolis of fear
Each object shows each year
They carved "I want" on my skull
One blind eye stuck in a repeating dream
Nightmares collapsing on every synapse
Images burst as neurons die
Walking the edge of Limbo
Where dyed the hours with lotus flowers
Angels stamping around in the bloody snow
Searching for frozen souls
The insane dead become caricatures of themselves
Sharing emotion like taffy in a puller
And consciousness plans outside its time to act
A Creator does something like that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem