War within the asylum walls [xi]

Mmkay, new project. I am gonna write a series of poems...that tell a story. Like a poetic version of a concept album. Chaa. This is part 11. Someone's in a writing mood...heh.

Procrastination- War within the asylum walls {xi}

Suave suede clothes
cling onto this cheap
lunatic, like an aura of
fortified wine. His hair
sticks up tall like a
skyscraper glued to his
skull.

Stand tall; stand tall; stand tall;
old friend.

His eyes are some sort of neurotic
candelabra, glittering with some
supernatural tension. Can he
understand me? Can he hear me?
A fluttering moth I enchant,
sorcery, beckon his soul
to me.

I knew you, but not like this.
Old commander.

He hears the daemon voices too,
come to me. We need the support.

The nurses; the nurses; the nurses
those hellbitches.

We hold our own conspiracies, concerts,
within the enemy territory. I am a spy now.
Freedom seems like a forgotten childhood
fairytale. A dream once lost in a hurricane
of nightmares.

Electrotherapy, their torture,
the grinning, the passive
smiles I cannot bear. Mind
numbing narcotics, are they making
me into a heroin addicted heroine?
Such a trivial word now. I am no
hero, no saint. Just a soldier.

And march boldly now to war,
my dear fellow soldier.
These battles I encounter, insignificant
and yet so important. Only these
I have to use my guile, my wit,
they have repossessed my sword.

Those bastards; they will taste
the bitter edge of it soon enough.

Jesus. I love it. Really, really amazing!

Wow. That one blew my mind beyond the point of recovery (not that I wanted to recover it anyway).

These just keep getting better and better. I especially loved 'His eyes are some sort of neurotic
candelabra, glittering with some
supernatural tension.'