A friend of mine who also experiences what consensus calls schiz-like symptoms is back in the hospital.
I can't write to him anywhere or call him just yet so I might as well post my feelings here in this space:
T--
Did the sad pull of life get to you again?
Or was it the feverish frenzy of those wild madboy visions?
I've wondered about you. Our madnesses are different. Mine is no longer light and heat, it has been reduced to fire and smoke now. Cool dark smoke has started to obscure the warm bright flame again. I am in danger of growing hard and strange to myself again.
Your madness seemed to be about flash and sound and a deep riotous tunneling magic. Please let me more about yours; maybe I can help you sort it out.
“They” (the loved ones and the unloving alike) could say that I am romanticizing this mystery. But let’s try to forgive them; most don’t know what these seductive wondrous thrashing dreams are like.
Were your visions tinged with the divine like mine seemed to be? This is a difficult dilemma in an age of numbness and unbelieving. I still can’t always figure out which spacetime I am in; the signals are all jammed with cold blue noise and the signs fade too fast now.
Were you seeking something purer and realer than all of this? I was. I saw and felt it, and now it is in danger of leaving me again.
Maybe I’ll spring up to Sheppard Pratt to see you.
I can't write to him anywhere or call him just yet so I might as well post my feelings here in this space:
T--
Did the sad pull of life get to you again?
Or was it the feverish frenzy of those wild madboy visions?
I've wondered about you. Our madnesses are different. Mine is no longer light and heat, it has been reduced to fire and smoke now. Cool dark smoke has started to obscure the warm bright flame again. I am in danger of growing hard and strange to myself again.
Your madness seemed to be about flash and sound and a deep riotous tunneling magic. Please let me more about yours; maybe I can help you sort it out.
“They” (the loved ones and the unloving alike) could say that I am romanticizing this mystery. But let’s try to forgive them; most don’t know what these seductive wondrous thrashing dreams are like.
Were your visions tinged with the divine like mine seemed to be? This is a difficult dilemma in an age of numbness and unbelieving. I still can’t always figure out which spacetime I am in; the signals are all jammed with cold blue noise and the signs fade too fast now.
Were you seeking something purer and realer than all of this? I was. I saw and felt it, and now it is in danger of leaving me again.
Maybe I’ll spring up to Sheppard Pratt to see you.
