Losing himself to the madness of his
uncontrolled mind, he fell headlong.
And in those dark recesses the demons came
midnight blue to red in tooth and claw,
as it was once said. They set up shop,
selling their wares in his pre frontal cortex,
the best and worst carnival ride ever.
The panting, drooling raw desire of the mind
to be free, free of constraint, of inhibition.
The wild ride soon became a haze of
thought and feelings bombarding
each other in a blood splattering war.
Face down on the kitchen floor, he
moved not a muscle, not a hair.
The twitching, writhing, bone breaking
spasms were there all right, but only
in the caverns and canals of his grey matter.
Light passed to dark uneventfully in
the world but in his neurons and synapses
a mad circus with dripping clowns and
Ferris wheels on fire and people
floating up to the dark sky played out.
The demons finally settled down to a game
of Canasta and the fires went out as
his mind recognized the silvery
light of morning. Moving slowly with
a head of cement he made his way to
the bathroom to sit beside the toilet,
legs tucked up with his arms around them
he waited, for what, he didn’t know.