Oh perhaps I do...have schizophrenia?

The colors swirl, it's madness in euphoria
(She's speaking in riddles,
No circles, no spiraling out into methological melancholy
Oh woman nurse, she brings me a basket of lobotomies
Oh doctor, he laughed as I lay on the floor
Of the isolation room, where quietudes
Roar!

Oh perhaps I do...have schizophrenia?

(She's deafened, fifteen or forty-two
The medicated emaciated little girl
Touch her, she's real but can she see

The scenery for the animals?

There's nothing here but monotony

So we spiral out into symphonies

Do I need to pin myself to the floor

Who's pinning her to the floor?
Pining for metaphors?
No Jesus or God could save them
They raped us of our synchronicities
And we saw, the cross, it was ironic
Did I

resemble something I was before

The mind is not a centrefold

The mind is not a thing I can ignore

Did I

See the blinding light

For light?

Or did I dream it was something else
Something terrible
Something cruel
Something more?