I’ll get through
Thinking the world is connected
By threes.
Thinking who do you want me to be?
What should I do?

It hurts my cerebellum.
When I see the future in present tense.
When I hear bangs of drums,
Or gas sets into the skies

When I can’t understand intelligence?
What letters spell logic?
I tried to read and gain culture.
And prayer is a cool thing.
My body melted, listening
To my heart’s violin strings sing.

Words are peaceful.
My anger, and fellowships have crippled me,
Some might say.
Who am I listening to, who am I afraid to be.

Logic in words, I never understand
I want to understand.

The mind of a manic.

When breathing is problematic,
When you are screaming to God
Hoping to hear him.

And out come the eight foot angels,
Followed by the bright blue butterflies.
Out doing their dance again.

Just doing their dance again.
As chemical silence is lifted.

In the promised land of the gifted.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.