A MAD MAN'S INSIGHT

I awake with a stub wound on my back,
It Heals,
 healing,
healed,
Perhaps it's intention's black,
Perhaps it's lesson's dark.
The last of this noxious stack.

At night my naive notions lark,
From far the menacing acts of serenity's works.
"Be cool,
 Be calm,
What you choose
you become.
Move the pieces you can"

The log in my eye and
The fog that exists in the wake,
A toast for goodbyes, lies and
All that makes us great
A clean slate's inception you reckon
For there's no gold for the most chaste.