In Sanity

How little we know.

Sanity is the normal
of others, the words
of experts judging each event,
inquisitions holding level thumbs,
yea or nay, the sadistic
pull of downward gravity.

There are no voices,
just the static of a mind
in thought, talking to one's self
through realms of waking dreams.

Moments of silence are sadness,
lapses where the intellect dies,
defibrillators charging neurons,
connections revived from their watery graves.

Stability is the city of the mundane,
where people walk through
circular hum, the logic of singular
circuits, the knowledge that there's
no one else, just the impersonal
drone of the temporal robotic.

How lonely that must be.

Rose Aiello Morales is a poet from Miami, Florida. Her first book, entitled '42' might still have some copies lying around gathering dust at www.AlabasterandMercury.com She and her husband Alex run an as of now unrecognized non profit rescue for cats.(At least the neighbors leaving kittens on our front porch seem to think so.)

2004-2012 Underground Voices