A noiseless, patient spider

crept into my waking dream

to speak of modern art and pop philosophy,

A man of wit, he dared professed to be!

Pathetic, how such standard words of beauty 

had profound effects on me. 

The unsuspecting caterpillar,

wakened from her stagnant sleep

to the discovery of wings,

monstrous, burdensome, 

heavy, hateful things,

for the high she feels upon the flight

created melodies her soul forever longed to sing. 

My warning to this caterpillar,

she could not, did not heed, 

now a false array of colors

and clumsy poetry 

have hushed the voice of logic

and fruitless sanity

and left engraved a boastful message

stating;

Art’s in Me. 

Lamentful creature left to wonder

over foreign lands and seas,

and artificial sunrises, 

the cause of both

euphoric joy and misery. 

for more reading [on how I lost my mind]:

http://authspot.com/poetry/every-night-7/

http://authspot.com/poetry/upon-this-earth/

http://authspot.com/poetry/move-the-earth/

http://authspot.com/poetry/the-conversation-4/

for some on reading on how I found it:

http://authspot.com/poetry/art-is-in-me/ 

http://authspot.com/poetry/the-painter-el-pintor/

http://authspot.com/poetry/playgrounds-2/