Just Like Me

The moisture
of my mouth, waters  
the black rose, that grows around the narrow river,  
swollen  with the sounds  that have left my mind
 
Thorns,  like thick tongues, break - apart from  
the monotonous rage  
that feeds me  
 
Today, the sky  
has been severed,  
seamstress cries, while laughing her hand's  
slender, nimble,  
grab your life, a distorted   
ruckle.  
Pinching gathering, laying  
down darning knots,  
holding them , tight  
   
Degenerative thoughts  cascade  through  dark   
channels, like a maze  
into an asylum that  
shrinks with  time.   
 
Bits of sanity laced, with tethers from old smelly canvas the colours  
of sorrow wrap neatly around the spectrum of pain  
 
To the dreamers that  
dare to dream the marvelous things we  
dream   
Our  thoughts,  deemed  
as lunacy, our words  
 a foreign  language.  
 
The mind of a poet  
 understood only  
 by another poet   
We jive meld together  
 I am appreciated   
By those  just like  
 me.