There are goldfish on the manicured grass.
Now you see them,
"No you don't".
Through rose coloured gothic windows he cries"Nurse!,
and realising he meant me,
I tried to soothe his visions with my newfound ego.
Tortured by emotions some call genius,
with twisted tongue writhing like a rabid dog.
Abject glassy eyes roll skyward
for a gentler place than this.
Sedated gargoyles incognito ,
haunting pathways Mr.Average fears to tread.
No more candles on his cake to count the years.
No one at home.
And I in uniform, clutch my knees
to rock amongst the goldfish on the manicured grass.
and shedding skinz.