Brush BurnsA Poem by danConfined in a psych ward...sanity allowed to break for the day...spinning wheel spinning 'round words of naught...time to go to bed.No matter what you told me You gotta grab and hold me Until the shakes stop the tracking Of the train. Diving down the lighted chute And with my mind so resolute I worry about the brush burns in My brain.
Disregard the verbal jitters I’ve been through these past 12 days, They were part of the illusion that my mind has sprung on me. While I cried and (sometimes) giggled ‘bout the wreck that I can be I’ve come out the other side so resurrected, so many different ways. And now that I have found my clarity I’m making noise Just to quell the tired whispers in the shadows of my mind. To imply that I have failed in any way will cause a quick rewind, To the dreaded piece of block of mind, replacing all my mental toys.
No matter what I’ve learned today I have to find another way To erase the brush burns raging In my head. I will learn that when tomorrow comes I’ll ignore the pounding of the drums And soak up all the trains of thought That split their rails and bled.
Dan © 2015
Music: “Beds are Burning,” by Midnight Oil © 2016 danAuthor's NoteReviews
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