A poem on neuroleptics

           The neuroleptic dance

When worlds of worlds of worlds of color
no longer held their once strange meaning

When strangers felt they could decipher
the minds of men that were still bleeding

When fallen hearts would tap tap tap
though still they held so soft,
no beating

When strange was Time
When God was rhyme
And thoughts no longer new

It felt only right to
come to this place
where once I was not subdued


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