This was sparked by stupid ideas of fashion in my home town. Its a bit like living in a huge olympic village cos everybody wears tracksuits and sports gear, If you don't wear the right name you're a non-person stupid but true.
Madness.
Not madness the group.
Just a small bunch of neurones, looping the loop inside my head.
I gaze at the world through rose-tinted eyes,
through lack of sleep, no great surprise.
Cos the nightmares start when I leave my bed and they’re ten times worse when I rest my head.
Wandering corridors in my mind.
They’re long and they’re dark, and there’s something behind me!!
I spy a doorway,
there,
to my right.
With an exit sign that glows green and then white.
There are chains and bars and bolts and locks.
And a woman stands beyond it dressed in bright green socks and – nothing else.
To the left of the door, there’s a sign which reads…
THIS DOOR IS ALARMED.
So I soothe it,
and it pleads with me.
“Let me out of this corridor…
I was the entrance to Woolworth before you and your neurones brought me here.
The door beyond which almost nothing was dear, but you’d often forget what you went in there for.”
I reason that this is the fault of the door.
And move on.
A staircase now.
So slippery and steep.
At the top is a tower, a castle, a keep.
Five million steps to the madness creator, and half way up it’s an escalator, moving down.
With a magic spell using dragons’ droppings, I conjure the trick used by Mary Poppins and slide up the banister tall and proud.
Passing ghosts of my history,
rending their shrouds and throwing the shreds of them into my face.
“You’re a Bastard, and Arsehole, A Fucking Disgrace”
I ignore them, as I am wont to do.
Pass the same naked woman this time in socks blue.
And move on.
I’m not sure exactly how far from the top I am,
when abruptly I come to a stop.
A landing leads off in two different directions.
Along one, a young man cuts his brain into sections.
The knife he is using is mother of Pearl, or Angie or Melanie or some such young girl that he lost his heart to, and will never recover.
He’s not learned that there is no such thing as a lover, forever, endeavours to cut out the part that attaches the eyeballs to strings of the heart.
So he won’t see them tempt him.
He won’t see them flutter their eyelids and skirt hems and then make him mutter and stutter.
And slowly dissection continues.
Until all that’s left are the ears and some sinews.
The pain is all gone but the hacking continues.
I move on.
And there to his opposite side is another.
Who looks not unlike him a possible brother,
or maybe a clone, whom on closer inspection.
We find not alone
and endowed with erection.
He writhes in some ecstasy hard to describe to a mind closed tight shut to a heart so alive.
And here in a corridor, dark and alone, they’ll sweat and he’ll hump and he’ll mumble and moan.
He thinks that the world outside won’t understand,
holds tight to another mans cock in his hand.
Until it is over,
begun then again.
When all of the worship turns round to refrains of his sorrow and guilt and of such hollow pain.
I move on
And back to the stairwell resuming my seat, a sprinkle of droppings, enchantment complete.
I gaze to the heavens
A spiral of steps makes me dizzy and leavens the whole atmosphere.
All of a sudden up there at the ceiling I see like a light at the tunnels end reeling,
a myriad stars in a circle of light bringing hope and such comfort, such lurid delight.
Not the madness creator I had at first feared.
That picked at my soul as it had done for years.
Would I mourn for the control this had over me?
Just a small naked girl with white socks to the knee
The end of the banister comes up quite soon and I find myself landing in one great round room.
Like the hub of a wheel, with more long corridors,
A door halfway down each and mirrors for floors.
What to do, do I choose?
The wrong one - do I lose?
There’s no rule – book, nor history giving me clues.
I walk to the nearest and push at the door and the stench of old memories I’ve known before rushes out from the gap and I retch and then turn and I run from the corridor, only to learn that…
I’m back where I started from, foot of the stairs.
I’m back where I started and nothing has changed except now I see I ain’t the one who’s deranged.
It’s just like a nightmare, so real and surreal which can trick all your senses
you believe that you feel.
You believe you’re unworthy cos’ that’s what’s been said from the time that you wake til your head hits the bed
Let’s move on!
It’s a great big lie people!
They’d have you believe that your socks are a measure of what you’ll achieve in this life.
Or your car, or your coat, or your name.
You are welcome, acceptable, winning, the same.
You have to conform to your peers opinion that you in your splendor, are simply a minion, like them.
This only proves fears are not always true fears
just the fact you’ve been forced to believe it for years.
Just the madness of life
no, not madness the group.
More a small bunch of neurones, looping the loop in your brain.
MOVE ON ! !
![Smile :) :)](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7)