Twilight's Symphony Schizophrenia - with Grace

Twilight's Symphony schizophrenia
from amethyst to a mind's pork pie
inebriated shampoo is gone to head
without preamble for a pale scalp
listening to whispers, tap tap,
" For He's a Jolly Good Fellow"  

precarious hold in sanity's string
waiting for the lightbulb's flash
owl hoots in deep mind's recess
picking gossamer feathers from air
as empty as yesterday's unwashed cup
yet the song played on uninterrupted

unfolding the cartouche of escargot
of pages unfeathered broiled scroll  
in the catacombs of my premonition
eclipsing the ancient, foretold  
echoing in my head,
"Mairzy doats and dozy doats"

desolation in a grey landscape
within the sleeping eyes
memories written without drafts
full on ahead spoken in whispers
shown backward in dreams
chaos of stories pokes sanity
conscience gallops with soul