The Meaning in Madness

July 13, 2011
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An Alaskan breeze, like the ginger touch of a mother’s fingertips,
pushes me along towards his apartment complex. I breathe in serenity,
and bask in the euphoric swirl of poison to my brain.
The night is polluted with ominous toxins;
from the cancer probing factory waste of industries,
The eerie night whispering secrets to my wind-chilled ears,
To my scornfully bad intentions.
I have become a walking biohazard.
And though the only essence of morality I have left makes me doubt,
I’m sorry to say that I have no remorse.
Polaroid doesn’t lie on the walls dedicated to his sin,
Leather-laced fornication in the backseat of your car.
His aspersions so vile, like word vomit,
boil my blood’s desire; a nefarious impulse batters my mind.
So when he walks in and he greets me with a kiss,
I fill him up on some drink, my arsenic laced fist.
I curiously stare at his colorless face, as he falls like an anchor on the linoleum.
The naïveté in his eyes is gone. He probably should’ve locked the door.
I smile as I cut and replace the black mass in this jar.
It served no purpose when it thumped in his chest.
And now it’s forever mine.
My heart swells at realization, and my poison liquefies;
obscene seduction at my fingertips.
And so I place the spool and needle on the countertop and
make him smile a perfect permanent smile.
He’s happy to see me. He wants to be refined. He enjoys being my jigsaw puzzle.
And so I rearrange the pieces accordingly, my focus, my purpose on target.
Oh what a mess I’ve made, while I grab and replace, my hands as swift as a surgeon.
I carve my initials into a heart, on each and every limb.
I’m not crazy, and I wouldn’t call this mutilation, I just have that affect on him.
I found a good suit and slicked back his hair, even put on his favorite tie.
He looked morbidly beautiful; immortal-
Our names ornamenting the painfully white walls in rusty red.
I never pegged you two for charlatans, but, dearest friend, when you return
You’ll find order and decorum; a masterpiece, my creation. Be still,
Sad heart. I guarantee you’ll find the perfect gentleman.

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