Friday, November 20, 2009
The Crazy Box
i have slowly tried to
crawl out of the crazy box
despite you with your tawdry deception
that you stretched into the folds of a year,
into the dark creases
of today and always,
it is constant, it permeated the air,
your day, your thoughts,
it muffles my eyes,
and all day the clatter of your fingers speak,
but not to me.
every morsel of your self, every taste, very sip,
while i double over famished, and gasp for a cool
draft of your time.
unbeknownst to i, chunks of thought
mouthfuls of ardor
ferreted from me, offered in
secrecy and silence while i ,
i'm folded neatly into the crazy box.
constant whimsy becomes you,
as you grow blind to what is near
your eyes, lost in their winter
dismissing the details, and confusing the colors
and safely tuck me away
and stuff the unsightly frayed ends
into the the crazy box, then with hands filled with
justification snap the
yet if i was the one,
if i was the magician,
a master of illusions
appearing and disappearing in electric puffs of smoke
and with my magic spun fables, and
hypnotized your eyes,
would you be the inhabitant
of the lovely crazy box?
would you pierce the sorcery,
and expose the sleight of hand?
would you call me witch?
would you grow skeptical,
and embrace the thick velvet
smoke of doubt?
would you find fault in my simple magic?
if i was a wizard,
and used my powers to beguile,
if i was a hypnotist and used my eyes
to lead you astray,
how would you taste my fall from grace?
but because of you, because of your powers
i will not call the inquisition,
nor strip away your elaborate incantations and spells
because i am in the crazy box
where you placed me.
for a brief moment there is a trading of places,
but it is only i, that
but you, you hold tight to your spells,
and all i ever hear are your mumbled
incantations weaving your demonology around me,
and binding me in the the crazy box.
and i am in the crazy box, locked and secured
where your powers have banished me,
but, i know, i know
i know the world beyond the magic
beneath the illusions
and i grieve
because you will never see the shoddy frayed ends of
your tawdry magic.
for i am locked forever
in this lovely crazy box
and you will never set me free,