madness takes many forms
each uniquely designed
to exploit the deepest fears
of the afflicted
those who crave the peace of solitude
are plunged into the hell
of a chorus of alien voices chanting
a discordant whirlwind of glossolalia
that resolves into harsh commands
urging the commission
of unspeakable deeds
implacable silence descends upon
the unfortunates who fear isolation
the world prisoned outside
a fishbowl of glass so thick
they can hear nothing
nor can they be heard
all made worse because
they can see out but no one looks in
and then there are the people like me
we who wonder why
when our every reason for living is gone
(swept away in tidal agonies
that rush in night after night
in the same unedited nightmare)
we are still here
our madness is subtle
condemned to wake day after day
into a world stripped of meaning
and go through the motions of being alive
when inside we carry nothing
but the cold and heavy ashes of dreams