I was walking near the One Lucky in a state of self-possession when I was pulled into an alley. A wild-eyed youth had pressed me against a brick wall.
"I'm scared inside my head!" he screamed. "The voices, the voices. I'm scared inside my head!"
There was that wildness in his eyes. Then came a sorry, lunatic squint and the slow easing of his two strong hands. I snuck out of the alley and heard the cry of the crazy boy scurrying against night: "I'm scared inside my head! The voices. The voices. I'm scared inside my head."
I too was scared inside my head. Afraid for that stormy youth overtaken by madness. A mother's son. A brother. A sister. A father's boy lost to the randomness of a mind dispossessed and on fire.
I stepped into the One Lucky and sat at the bar. A cynical face looked at me from a smoky mirror, but I saw no wildness, just my own worried eyes.
Poetry Pantry #392
5 hours ago