Last Note From The Asylum (Poetry)

The page is love’s dimension
it’s sorrow’s padded cell
I walk the margins day and night
I kiss but seldom tell

I cut a vein for poetry
and bleed into the past
I hear the whistle of the bomb
its head-exploding blast

The poem’s some cool analyst
that lounges on a chair
it judges me as borderline
but I’ll take issue there

I’m singing soft for sanity
as ink runs out the door
the plan to get away from here
has hit one fatal flaw

I’m out of time, I’m out of luck
the snowman’s come to town
he leers into my mirror and
he’s frozen me a frown

I’m skating on this icy page
it’s white-out wall to wall
and Winter watches with a grin
my words like snowflakes fall

I know they’ll melt before the year
has turned the world to war
the hungry chew on bibles
while the godless take the floor

Though love’s the fourth dimension
sacrifices yield no gain
few care enough to notice
when the label says ‘insane’

The wilderness is calling
no guide book on the shelves
so listen to that inner voice
wake up — and save yourselves

There’s an angel at my shoulder
and he whispers all night long
it’s some kind of coded message
but there is a chance I’m wrong

The doctors don’t like evidence
they’ll burn this note for sure
for poetry’s become taboo
and love has no known cure