the poem without a face

Inside Madness is ripping the Brain apart
Floatsom and Jetsom eating the daily special
Everything else is bright white lights
There is knocking at the door
It must be the postman delivering blank cold stares

Nothing is as Nothing was
And evermore is what I am not
You see more than me
Around corners and deep black holes
The Abyss really is an endless sea.
Of Tranquility