the inner workings of my mind

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the menagerie
of my mind:
it refuses to cease

all the different
words, sounds, and pictures
that are filed away

continue to pound
against the walls
of my skull

desperately searching
for a way
out

they wish to be freed

all they want
is to experience
the world

to be appreciated
for what they are:
perfectly pure

they gawk
and jeer
at the sell-outs

the ones who allow
for their idea to be changed
simply for money

rich mean
with only
half an idea

are like
the moon, only
half as bright





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