We played at madness
magnifying our neurosis to suit
our personalities, our own selfish needs.
You caterwauling and careening about the room,
me in the corner, rocking, rocking, silently rocking.
You became angry when I would not romp and stomp with you
and taunted me in my place of madness
but I would not let you in.
Tired of the game you suggested
we go out for pizza.
The world was new for me that night, seen with mad eyes.
My voice ricocheted off walls.
People stared, I cried, you took me home.

I am trying to resurrect a little madness
caught in glimpses, time to time,
struggling to break free, wreak havoc.
Pushed aside submerged buried but not too deeply.
A kernel of crazy covered by a hard shell
surrounded by spines like Chinese chestnuts
locked in layers that say
Do Not Touch.
I dig through layers of responsibility, respectability
knowing I must keep the beast contained
afraid it will devour me, drawn to it all the same,
until the children are grown, the mortgage is paid.
I liked it when it was only me and my insanity.

 

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Deborah Reed Filanowski has roots are in West Virginia although her adult life has been spent in NE and Central PA where she worked in substance abuse treatment with women and their children. Deborah had one chapbook published by Plan B Press in 2002 with reprints in 2003 and 2011. Most recently her work has been published in The Write Launch, Moonstone Arts, Aphelion, River Poets Anthology, and won awards on a state level.