Madness Everywhere! Poem by Sasha Trajkovski

In parks and on buses,
in taverns, on the streets—
madness spills like cheap wine,
staining the lips of the world.

Madness, and only madness!
In the souls—madness!
It rusts the locks of reason,
gnaws at the spine of patience,
and plants thorns in every dream.

Climb a little higher,
toward a breath of clean air,
toward the fragile hope of something normal—
yet at the summit,
the rocks bleed,
and there it waits again:
new madness, hungrier than before.

All evening,
all night,
and every minute of the day—
madness in the market stalls,
madness in the whispers of lovers,
madness in the lullabies of mothers.

In the brain and in the body,
in the hearts, veins, and genes—
madness dances in the chromosomes,
waltzes in the marrow,
drinks from the rivers of our blood.

Only the madhouses are empty,
only in them is there none—
for their walls are jealous,
and the streets have stolen their patients.

And so the world turns,
a spinning carnival of fevered eyes,
selling tickets to the show
where every seat is taken
and the stage is on fire.