Madness is a Form of Insight

Love gadgets fill the shelves,

Photo by Hungrybison

Of the Motel lobby.

The dead twin brother
of Elvis,
Serves prostitutes toast.

Maybe we can redeem ourselves,
Maybe we could reinvent heaven.

Heinrich Himmler,  a cracked coffee cup,

Snow, stained yellow with piss, red with blood, brown with coffee.
This was the 20th century.

Madness is a form of insight, logic a darkening crippler.
No body truly loves reason,
No body truly appreciates disorder.

My intestines are  full of worms.
My brain squirms like a snake in a frypan.
My meals taste like vomit,
My breath smells of decay.


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Filed under American West, art, creative writing, original photography, original writing, poem, poems, Short stories and essays, thoughts, writing

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