Delusionfrenia

Point the finger.

Gavel down. 

Cruel smile. 

Broken frown.

A tiny judge hid the alter 

Behind the curtain, 

But don't look.

A brother stabbed 

The backwards stare

And twisted into a crook. 

He denied his own acquittal

And took blood into his hands.

He condemned himself a little

And struck up his own band. 

His marching on marathon

Built his self-ward slices red.

He burned his clothes and froze his body

Forgoing his own bed. 

On this solidly uncertain rock he stands.

Earthquake rhythm and safely bound hands.

An illusion never broke him

But the truth just might.

But sweeter are the homemade pills

And the bitter way they bite. 

Hope one day the grind will find him. 

That Daddy's love crushes him thin,

Boils His powder in the furnace

And engraves His fingerprints again. 

Darkness will not lift

A blanket wrapped thick and gripped

'Til his fingers free