Doom and gloom, sorcery
walking on the edge of madness
sanity is a word of no use for
which of us is sane these
days when exception seems to rule?
As I watch, the sky fills with rose
colored clouds tipped with royal
purple hues. A flock of small
parrots chatter their way across
the skies. Lettuce sits single file
covered in dew. My coffee offers
warmth on a chilly fall day in a
season that is upside down from
when I was a child.
Reality, what is reality these days?
A young man wanders the streets of
New York listening to voices only
he can hear. Sometimes, they lock him
up in back wards or jails, when
people can no longer bear his babble
or their fear.
This day stretches before me, Sunday,
that special day of the week. Slaves
can rest on this day, so the gods declare.
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