The Crazy Ones

an expression of depression, despair and pain in the down cycle

The Crazy ones



So this is where my people come to die-

The crazy ones- the ones who carry the gene for madness.



I sing to you in every voice I have and still you do not hear me.

Can you face the whirl wind and swim through a tornado?

Can you dance with razorblades and come out cleaner?



I put on fire like a costume

To deny my pain.

Pain is only invisible blood leaving the body,

Abandoning ship, like drowning rats

Like the screams that no one can hear,



Escaping to some other dimension of space and time

Where clowns are funny

And unicorns are not deadly dangerous

Where dreams cannot kill and maim

And the truth does not skin me alive.