Poison paranoia.
Diagnosis: Imbalance
Of chemical origin.
This revealed in voices
All too real from doctor's lips.
I hear the words, but deny
Their meaning.
Not me, not mine...
“We're fine,” I say, stumbling
Over scientific nomenclature
Like marbles scattered
Along my path.
Unsuspecting of such
I am defenseless.
I cannot stop reeling
From these terrifying thoughts.
Delusional. Manageable.
Incurable. Inevitable
Breaks from reality...
He drones on and on.
And I wonder if this
Is how it feels....
This deluge of conflict
Flooding over the mind
And drowning out what is real.
--CHGreen©2005
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
A spinoff blog where I post my poetry. Please visit me at Beneath the Ivy Wreath.
Coyprighted material of C.H. Green
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
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