Psychosis

Out of the dark voids of my mind
I seem to find no boundary
No line of chalk or wall of stone
No solid substance or cloud of smoke

Though it embraces my thoughts
Like muted silver in a dark sky
Inked in black and written for none to see
Then whisked away with the autumn tempest

A labyrinth of catacombs behind marble brow
Which of the dead hold the skeleton key?
The webs of knowing cannot aid me in my search
What intersects the animus within me?

For like the constellations I too have a twin
Haunting paragon gardens and festive crypts
She poises on the billows of sunless days
And drinks to the opaque of crescent nights

But what is to keep her noxious fingers
From opening doors bathed in cannibal glow
Behind curtained windows and beneath sandy staircases
I fear she may find a third wheel to turn.