I don’t go out,

I just sit at my window & out stare,

I watch the trees change color,

The squirrels gather their nuts,

I watch the clouds blow by,

I don’t like anything blocking my view,

I need a clear field of vision,

I think I might be going nuts…?

Nobody even does of me visit,

I speak to myself to pass the time,

I write on this computer mostly in rhyme (see…?)

I hear the cicada’s song, fading in the colder weather,

And watch the progress of a floating feather,

I feel like I am buried already covered in lime…

Is this truly insanity that I do approach,

I sit here and smoke my pot right down to the roach,

Is this a life that I have, or do I of insanity encroach,

I take my pills like a good little boy,

I keep myself alive & no longer play with my toys,

I barely do eat, or listen to music’s beat,

TV has become a lost personal art,

I sit here on this computer & stare at its screen,

Hoping against hope I don’t actually go mad,

And start to against the world & myself start to in craziness scream…

© ed – 9/24/13