Confusion in Underground Clouds

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My Mind

The voices crawl across my brain

like spiders on a thread.

Pinching nerves that spread their pain

like prophets of the dead.

They arrive in writhing masses,

their legs upturned and flicking,

trying to impale flies

like bloody pigs upon the sticking.

The voices shout and whisper

in a cadenced drone of lies

that mingles with the buzzing

of one million writhing flies.

They build their webs to catch them

and devour wholly men,

until they hear the last fly buzz,

and devour all again.

Reeling and spinning,

the whole world is oblique.

I can feel it swivel jarringly

right below my feet.

Once the voices start to speak.

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