A Spark of Madness

This might be insanity.

Day in,

day out,

punch a clock

in a world where time is a prison.

 

Wake, sleep, repeat

and there is an expectation of sanity?

Even the rules of this place

are insane.

 

So I draw a line,

with a broken pen

and say

“This far and no further!”

I hold my ground

for about a second;

never run so fast in my life.

 

So I play by the rules

for a decade.

I play domestic,

punch a clock,

buy that ring,

sell my soul,

for four walls

and a roof

and two cars

and I pretend to love it.

 

I get told,

often,

that I should be thankful.

That I am working hard

to be successful,

but it’s hollow

and heartless

and pointless.

 

One day,

I found a little spark of madness,

hidden,

way down,

squished into a corner

under a pile of debt and worry;

and it is wonderful.

 

No longer bound

by deadlines

and thought police word balloons;

I decide to stretch my own narrative,

because even the title of

“Aspiring Hack Writer”

holds a touch more danger

than “Mortgage Account #: 997314”.

 

Even the bad words

are better than the good looks

gleaned from vapid day-to-day commerce.

I can love

and explore

and cry

and even hate again,

because it’s all okay.

 

That little piece of madness

freed me from an insane world.

Let me face the next dawn

with smile on my face

and a pen in hand

and another irrational desire

to create the world in my own image.

If time shall be my prison,

then it shall also be my canvas.

 

When times got dark,

I set myself on fire

and lit my own way.

 

HG – 2017