Visions of Madmen

December 28, 2009
While the moon peaked out of her hiding place in her sky
And a great weariness began to weigh me down
I caught a glimpse of a dark figure quickly illuminated
By the streetlight standing guard
Just then a face pressed against my pane—
Gnarled and untamed surrounded by a mat of frayed hair,
Then jerked back and sounded a mad Howl
So piercing I nearly lost my mind and soul—
And somewhere in those wild, staring eyes
Far behind the clay-mask worked and forced against his round cheeks and form—naked, free
Was a gleam far too familiar

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