Poetry in Madness

When the full life of the barrel concludes It will have been filled and drained many times over

Various liquids of various sources Passed through it On their way to other destinations

Once the last opaque drop is gone Look to the bottom Shine your light See those scratches in the wood The deep gouged lines of a madman’s nails

Those marks show the depths he was willing to reach He scraped and slashed at whatever drop of anything was left All to ensure that the barrel still had purpose and value All because he knew the next fill would erase the pain of the liquid stored the time before

Once the barrel’s life comes to an end So does the madman as one’s use fulfilled the other’s purpose Once the barrel is dry, the madman will succumb to the drought

Heart dry. Mouth dry. Mind dry. A madman full of passion slowly withered to a pile of dust. Returned to the earth as dust As he wished Burn the barrel The fire forged it in the beginning Just as it did him The fire shall be the last kiss for them both Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.