In the city of the blind
they say the one-eyed man is king.
But better to see nothing, sense nothing
then to see reality half the time
and distortion the rest.
Better to lift the needle, like Oedipus
and pierce out every bit of misguided sight
Than to see through this dark glass
Distorted, disjointed.
Delusions, they tell me.
When reality sleeps, I wake up from my dream
Alone, not knowing what I did or said
yesterday, to lead me here
But knowing I will find out.
The horror of a mind, fading in and out
in queasy rhapsody.
I pray for the kiss
Of true, uninterrupted madness
To salve me to my dying day.
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