poetry

Mistaking Madness

Puffy eyed and living the dream

Filling pages with images,

But mostly just mistaking

Bad handwriting for genius.

I’m sure addicted to something.

Each one kills me a little more;

Each one brings me to life a little more:

Resurrected by Art,

At least that’s what I chose to believe.

Each one’s a coin in the wishing well,

Each one another feather

On frozen wings.

A hint of an idea?

Shiver against it,

Don’t kill your darlings

Walk with them,

Spend a day in the rain

Running through puddles

And thinking up lies

To trick the reader into

Mistaking your madness

For genius.

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4 thoughts on “Mistaking Madness

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