1993, Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital

Another poem I wrote when I was young, in the style of Poe, about depression and insanity.

Little known: the loneliness
of city streets, suburban stoops,
When all is lost and love a stain,
But bleakly sad, forlorn disdain;
Headless hen, flailing, chicken coop.

Little known: the fear, the hate
that formulates in darkest hours,
The snake is writhing on the floor,
(I think that I should care no more).
This life is constant thunder showers.

Little known's the jealous rage
in simple things, like holding hands;
I claw and bite, my soul will cry,
for hours 'til the ground will dry.
Around me will be endless sands.

Little known: the black inside,
the little looks, the inner urges,
They boil and rot inside your heart
'til man and soul will break apart;
Volcanic blood, flows and surges.

Little known: the gentle love,
of whitened walls and velvet arms
Embracing me forever more
I, lying upon my tiled floor,
find loneliness does have its charms.