Bedlam.

Faint before the revelatory oration; comfortable with the soil.

Contemplate the esoterica, existential and charitable in constitution; upon the doorstep of a trance.

Eyes wide open; yet the vision is impaired.

A hallucination in the darkness; of everywhere and nowhere.

Become one of many, but a few of the whole; dissolving into the creator’s mold.

An irreproachable causality for you.

The bedlam bell tolls before the wishing well, water cold and shadows; enshrouding secrets the sibyl withholds.

Establishing a false sense of sanity, surrounded by white walls, white lights, white bedsheets and curtains, somas draped in white robes, impersonal and sterile; yet the voices mock the uniformity with their abrasiveness.

Behold exoneration from living, dance and sing to the rhythm of the mundane, sway back and forth to the itch of the neck and the restlessness of the legs; posing as if locked in a post mortem stretch.

A steel gurney, a mimic of a doting father, nylon straps; the caress of a loving mother.

Frosted glass taunting me with a faint, morbid reflection of the wight I used to be; and still am.

Fall to the floor and liquify.

Taunted by the wight I used to be; and still am.

I faint before the revelatory oration; comfortable with the soil.

Contemplate the esoterica, existential and charitable in constitution; upon the doorstep of a trance.

Dissolving into the creator’s mold.

The bedlam bell tolls; establishing a false sense of sanity.

I fall to the floor and liquify..

Taunted by the wight I used to be; and still am; I fall to the floor and liquify.

Water cold and shadows enshrouding secrets the sibyl withholds.

A bedlam prisoner. –Michael Kabu Ament