Instability

The end may be closer than we think,

the shaggy-haired prophet says.

He, who has spent much time in psychiatric wards,

sees visions of hellfire at corner stores.

What of these visions of gods and flashes of inspiration

that spawn beautiful art?

He sits in the therapist’s office and re-hashes a month

lost to the mazes and trap doors in his mind.

He’s stable now, but end times will come again,

as they always do, like passing seasons and gathering

storm clouds that dump the torrential rains of illness.