Psychosis, the paranoia of intense scrutiny
Every man a spy, every place a trap
Adding locks to a door of the mind, only to hear
The knob turning and fear
Flooding forth and bringing with it
Cold sweats and labored breathing once again.
An impregnable maze assembled
One night, stretching into timeless void
Great ideas that would stand the test of time
A week later, returned to cryptic signs
Incomprehensible. Was this me?
Conjured as a shade, a joker, a
Mummers farce with bells and painted faces?
The paranoid have enemies, this is true
But do they fade
Turn into a river of sand pouring from
Our clenched fist?
Our existential threats rise and fall
And one day we will confront them
But shadows are not soldiers,
And they leave no mark for others to see