Peanut-shell splinters and pink wisps cascade
Over cobwebs of chaos. Within, lost
Words, like the wraiths of wrecked ships and men, fade,
Melt into the mind’s surface. In the frost,
In the webbed wasteland, they dole out the most
Minute doses of joy. My destiny
Is to chase a shoestring’s worth of hope. Ghost,
Sanity is a city inside me,

No more. Unsaid ‘I love yous’ masquerade
Here as sweet memories. Bitterness, tossed,
Soaked in sepia dye, seasoned and sautéed,
Lends them pathos and grace. Silence enmossed
In gentle regrets—that was once my worst
Sin, but—’I believe yous’ fell from the tree
Too, drifted down in soundless shreds. So, first:
Sanity is a city inside me,

No more. Second: come and haunt me there. Braid
Madness into its walls and webs. Exhaust,
Ruin this last refuge, if life-debts are paid
Thus. Save me from fear, from cowardice crossed
With silver: let me learn to scream. The host
Of tears shed in darkness means nothing; free,
It will just feed this craven cringing. Ghost,
Sanity is a city inside me,

Where peanut-shells quiver in webs, inhaust
Strangled voices bound to sea-bones, and flee,
Laughing. Remember, though you count no cost:
Sanity is a city inside me.