In The Land of Bedlam

With no concerns, no worries, no cares, nothing, I sat there in the dark.

Thoughts of days, of joy, of smiles, or sneers, looked at me through the flames.

Mocking my every mistake, laughing at my stupidity, ringing through the air.

They remembered. I looked left at the deck of cards, calling my name.

She had picked it up and torn it in half. Lovers. Leaving me to be the Fool.

That wretched phantom roaming day and night never rests, but maybe yesterday.

When I was a child, though it was years ago I know it like yesterday,

My mother used to comfort me, on those stormy mornings, where all was dark.

She used to tell me stories of belief and hope, and I listened and believed. Fool.

I think I got a letter from her. I was learned by then—and it went into the flames.

My father. Mind set straight. No lie could deceive. Screamed my name.

I remember those sunny afternoons. My blood splattering through the air.

A walk through the city. An opportunity to breath in the foul air.

A banker walks by. No signature today— nor yesterday.

I stare the devil straight in the eye, and spit out his name.

He gives me one look, and I see myself cowering in the dark

He smirks and I fall and fall and fall into the flames.

Must I be such an intrepid fool?

I awoke, in the sea of fools.

Judgement Day is here! She sat in her chair breathing the air.

Yes the very same, the very one, her and she. She held the flames.

The Queen rose, her subjects kneeled, and asked me about yesterday.

I lied and lied, laughing all the while. She couldn’t see in the dark.

But her cruelty matches that of a rabbit. And I was free of that name.

That was that, and I was free, and yet another called my named.

He was blind, limping about with a cane. A true fool.

Yet he stopped me mid-stroll and introduced me to the dark

Like I needed that. I practically lived there, breathing its air.

Yet he insisted that I get closer, closer than the events of yesterday.

The river called my name. I ignored, for I would fall only to flames.

Quick, simple, easy. How I love the flames.

One last person called my name.

She was the one, the one from yesterday.

She looked me straight in the eye. I was the fool—

not her, but I. She stood under the gaze of the air.

It took just one slap to introduce me to the dark.

Frightened, hungry, tired, yet somehow indifferent—I was no longer the Fool.

And so I cut down the noose. I grab the pistol. A single shot filled the air.

Efficiency is bliss. Romeo and Juliet. Idiots. A refreshing change of pace, the dark.