Unsellable Unnumbered Unique edition

There is something mad about me

My mind woven from cloth

Never known

My language unheard and I am suddenly talking alone

Some ramble on about the government

Corporations

Poverty

Wealth disparity and bad health

Still I do not pierce the ears

Made in the shiniest of metals

Receptacles for trash

A thumping, bumping, humping goes on in my head

On life

Poetry

Irrational fears of death

Music that calms

Keeping the beasts at rest

Perfect green grass

Keeps me afloat

Still there is this lingering gnawing at my chest

I feel this heart pumping

While others keep still in their breast

My feet are tingling

Felt vibrations through the floor

Am I mad?

Gone to the moon

Lost brain cells while locked in a cage

To feel unlike the rest

I must be

I must be

Be…be…mad and I am glad

To have turned out to be an unsellable unnumbered unique edition