Pariedolia and apophenia. My schizophrenic break into the mystical realm
Of thin places and sacred ground
Why can’t I function with reason and sound
Must everything be heaven bound.
Put my toes in the ground, hold me close when my feelings expound
Most of all don’t let them take me away
To the place of white torment haldol and pills night and day-where mental fire is never quenched, where worm does not destroy my thoughts-
And Jesus will rock me, maybe I shouldn’t talk.
They already know I am the mad artist, creative prophet, wrestling with God, but not forgotten by the cold tile of hospital isolation rooms. –
Bec Cranford-Smith


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