the necessity for madness

thistle amongst laughter mutters quiet gestures of midnight

for ignorant smiles, threaded youthfully with ruby blossoms,

delicately masked all deception and carefully charted

every weakness woven through petals previously lost within the storm


dizzy from each morsel of unmarked truth and bruised door,

found only in the vacant subtleties of chaotic cedar chests

is the necessity for madness which once comforted white bliss

only to discern distant mutterings of ahead convincing behind he’s too far gone


all that is left rests between calloused thistles and sheltered laughter


“I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.”

-Albert Einstein



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