Psychosis By Osmosis Poem by RaVen DaWn

So sane once the madman spoke.
So mad now, my belief.

Psychosis by osmosis.
This my worn and weary smile;
sits upon my face
like the Arctic oil slick;
sick by reflection…
I have seen the greasing of the wheels
with the blood of soldiers and slaves.

Nero looks back up at me
from the puddles on the walk.
Oh, where did I inherit these demon eyes?
Was it the dreaming or the horror?
The dreaming or the horror.

Perhaps my nightmares wake up with me
and eyes and ice are one and the same;
as I see with my visions apart
myself watching me…

Yes, I offered you a hole in the wall
for your honor to escape through:
Yet as the mad ones teach me all about self-serving insanity
do I become insane myself.
Yes, I become insane myself.

For all I am shown, -should the martyrs tremble
with wasted feet on once-hallowed grounds;
…and a tear of death let go from an eye of Enola Grey…
…and I am swimming in glass, as the mirror reflects
something I once saw - a horror in the eyes of an angel.

No, the babies won't drink
from the curdled maternal well.
Terra mama we have betrayed the faith,
and our saints do walk among us
on slippers of thorns,
with the future only
a sick reflection of ourselves;
psychosis by osmosis
-and the milk of human kindness
turns to blood.