Knocking on the Madhouse Door

“Let us in, let us in!” cried the sane
banging fists on the colossal doors
of the mental institute as strong
as they could until blood drooled
from open scars, looking back
in fright and horror “Let us in
before we all lose our reason!
Pandemic madness has seized
the entire human race, they are
moving frantically spinning ceaselessly late
commuting in boxes on wheels they send
each other to hell whilst imprisoning themselves
in bigger boxes made of levels
the higher the more successful
in which they labour forty hours
a week until they return to their cages
to sleep, they swallow pills blue and orange
hoping in vain not to be chased, by nightmares
as they forget their dreams. Let us in!
they are talking war they are not
satisfied they want more, they barely see
each other anymore, yet they look
for approval posting pictures of bitter smiles
counting likes as if their life depended on them,
befriending strangers whom they’ll never meet
obsessed with being remembered, longing
for immortality convinced not their vices
will kill them but desperate loneliness will, they seem
irremediably lost, let us in!
They are abolishing silence got rid of slowness
judge us by the brands we wear deaf
to what we have to say, we fear
they want to wipe us out for we remind
them what it was like, to be sane.
[Featured painting: Monk Talking to an Old Woman by Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes, 1824–25]