Who is there that understands
Holds fast upon the way
See that far off stare, Knows
all the bewildering rhymes of thought
Grasps therein One piece of me?

I dribble out where
all the feelings inward share
Like a tyrant to the abuse of self
A proclaimed identity I, Myself
Lost upon the rudiments of fanciful delight
Springs to nature the battled flight
I drift where the mind lost upon itself
Screams tormented into that dark abyss
Forbidden the weary moments pressed
Crafted here, flashed and dressed
Turmoil reigns its sacred way
Where even the God's fear to tread.
Its true I die a piece each day
fading into myself every way
I've lost the venture, yet gained the ground
Who truly understands Insanity's sound?

I grasp to the note that fills the air
haunting in its choke without a care
Ravished upon the mire of long faded visions
Where identities press all their impressions
I am as fragile as the crystal glass
Emotionally bearing my very last
Upon these fine threads of life so stressed
The liberator a madman half undressed.
Oh Parable of parables, the cleft of a lie
The fragile inconsistencies that pegs a sigh.
Dream on ward this illusionary flood of life
That mingles my bones upon its strife.

Who dares venture upon these my grounds
Hold beside me frustrations mighty sounds
Who cares to know the dark, dark side
where tales embrace and fear does ride,
Then sweep away your moments
snuggle down without a frown
Hold my hearts endeavors without uttering a sound
Let me come within you
Riding upon your dreams
A demented Scotsman, or so It seems.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph