Wooo.....1

(I couldn't think of a title duh)

The frail essence of sanity touches my veins --
I'm lost in a tide,
drifting out farther into the seven rivers,
their sagacity piercing me with hidden malice.
The crisp air reaches my skin and I recoil,
burned as though it causes cloy
and its sweet silence acts opaque,
innocent, but expedient
as the child with no face.
Now the trees rush at me
and the world seems to melt.
How has my love been abused,
returned as a Stockholm syndrome?
How has my lasting passion for creation
eroded into caustic deformation?
My mind, once brimming
lets my hopes rise to the surface like a dead fish
and begins to overflow with peruse,
destroyed and lethargic --
just waiting for the chariot to swing low enough
to carry me back home.

Note: this poem is basically just random thoughts and proof that I'm insane :) kthx.