Rueful and proud
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like a bold boy, one bone broken
Scared yet impressed
by your own audacity
You call me up
to share your gods and monsters
your mad delusions of divinity.
That fractured mind.
Those plastercast prescriptions.
Your crazed self-healing shamanism
beneath a bleak conformist burial of pills.
You slipped that noose,
a wild fast-talking Lazarus,
beat-preaching martyr of an unquiet mind.
Shrugged off the shrink-wrapped shroud
for mania’s mantle, and your freedom
Ran for a life
uncared-for and carefree.
You're calling now
to tell me that you love me.
Knowing I’m leagues away,
Safe port for sailor’s tales:
I’ve no right
to recommit you
myself being uncommitted territory.
I’m terrified you’ll call soon
No more a boy
and with more than one bone broken.
Quenched under mania’s cooling shroud,
bereft both gods and monsters,
And though you may roll stones
no longer free.