Should my psychosis lead you like a song
remembered from realities of blood
beyond your sacred sanity, how long
would music be the flame before the flood?
What beaten rhythm pounded from your heart
would course through my realities of doubt?
What rising voice could patently impart
divinity with madness or without
the sacrifice of spirit in your veins
which rises from your chest into your throat?
Recall the taste of love when love remains
within the balance of a single note,
when blood becomes the mystery of mind
and music is the savior of mankind.