Backwards

So be it,
Out like an amazing fire,
Blow the fractured rip from a ripping,
Torn up procedure, cutting,
Truth and modesty,
An unable man of able composure,
Surest to deceive and complain whenever deceived,
Try a thrill, moderate and relative,
A record of your life, tucked away in the dust filled,
Broom-handle, little sky man,
While you're up above,
How small are we?
You see a horizon unlike any other,
The moon's blue and so am I,
A golden road,
We've been here before,
Then too felt like I was losing my head,
That's another chapter in an unpublished novel,
Maybe not a novel at all,
But a satire,
Of a position in which I've placed myself,
Relative to nothing but madness,
And here I am.