MADNESS – Not Poetry; A Narrative.

She sits by the roadside – a mixture of calm and confusion. Madness becomes her. On her rock she sits, crossed- legged. Her clothes, a myriad of silhouettes. The light plays a number on her. A revelation here, skin there. Exposed? Yes! Barely? Yes! She sits on her rock smoking her cigarette – a mixture of calm and confusion She is mad. For as she … Continue reading MADNESS – Not Poetry; A Narrative.