This is a series of accusations of the psychotic
to the sane shouting with eyes rolled to the back
of their heads, uncontrolled craze springing from
their words while I sit with folded calmness,
swallowing logic for a better use in the better days.
My hands shook each and every time I held his heart
because his heart never jumped regularly so I wanted
to make it seem like it did; I wanted to think that
with my warmth and his apathy, we would birth distilled
perfection who would jump and survive the high wires of life.
My mind controlled my heart but you let your heart control
your mind, why did you do so? I saved myself from unnecessary
heartbreaks and pain while you cried over split emotions and
more tears but you put a name tag on my words spelled “crazy”
because I was not like you; I knew how to live my life controlled
and under careful surveillance, but you ran young and free when
you were never free, breathing the air you stole from the graves
of the dead in the middle of the daybreak, when the concentration
of innocence was the highest and most marvelously breathtaking.
You roamed among lost stars while I walked behind you, counting
my steps until we reached the outer edges of this universe but
you lost your map along the way and yelled at me for my carelessness,
but I told you how many steps you needed to regain until you
could start over, and you hit me with blows dramatic like the big bang,
your words begged for more meaning while they traveled the distance
between you and I to target me like a shooting star, willful ignorance
of the young souls leaving the adolescent stage and I victimized myself.
This is a series of explanations from the psychotic
to the normal, who choose to live loudly in the mundane
while the crazy quietly count years with sunrises
and seconds with the shakes of their hands, nervous smiles
and a nostalgic longing for a place, a heart to call their own.