Snap

If there was a way I could
absolve what you’re going through,
dull the sharpness of the stress
that cuts and shreds your insides
keeping you from sleep,
keeping you from giving
yourself freely and without
the undertone of psychosis;
then I would.

Jokingly you’re Mr Furious...
Hearing you laugh is magic
the baritone rise out of your belly.
It’s a sound now fleeting like
the fading of an echo
down the ward halls I fear you in.
A self imposed sanctuary
that blocks out the insanity
that deletes me from you.