poetry

Sunflowers and Factories in Full Bloom

The Madness has run away with my head
Thrown in a sack with the black cat and raven.
Sweet, artful Madness; I thought you were dead

He reached through your eyes, he grabbed me and said:
(Oh, look! It’s you, I have found you again)
The Madness has run away with my head.

(Just kiss her, keep her, don’t let her from bed
if her back but turns, I’ll drown you in yen.)
Sweet, artful Madness; I thought you were dead.

It won’t do, if ahead, lay last thoughts of you.
I know it is coming. Not what, but when.
The Madness has run away with my head.

Insides frayed, flayed, floating; asea in red.
Some madmen have swords, all I’ve got(s) a pen.
Sweet, artful Madness; I thought you were dead.

Sanity stumbles and hangs by a thread
Fingers fumble, the words walk by and wave.
The Madness has run away with my head
Sweet, artful Madness; I hoped you were dead.

 

*started reading some villanelles. Anyone know any good ones out there?

 

 

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