&the descent into madness
is a paper girl with paper wings,
shredding her feathers so she
cannot fly home.

&to hell the devils invite you,
offering their hand along the way.
Accidentally stabbing you with
their tail.

&it’s hard, but sometimes you
make it out clean. Other times
the creamy notebook paper is
tainted crimson.

&but well, I thought I could
swim right through but the
diehard sceptic told me
otherwise.

&worth so little, yet worth
every moment you pretend to
breathe. Every instant spent
pretending to live.

(&still)

&it calls to you, soothing
your fears. Things will be
better, you realise, in the
land of the mad.