I spied you standing in the wings
With your hand on the lever,
Hair thick with dust clumps and splinters.
They thought you one of their own,
But I knew different.
In the night I could hear
That inner asylum of shrieks and contortions —
Your world in renovation only half complete.
Wild eyes and bared teeth,
Ready to pounce at any moment.
Strapped into the harness of insanity.
Not yours. Borrowed.
Stuck, like a test pilot in a flight gone wrong.
The single rotating axle of an intemperate smile
Drenched in fear.