An Igloo In My Brain

I have a little igloo,
Deep inside my brain.
It's walls are made of blocks of ice,
It's shingles frozen rain.

It's lodged somewhere in my head,
An icy blue refrain.
It's the place I tend to go,
When I go insane.

I have an Indian tee-pee,
Setup in my room.
It's cone-shaped and kind of creepy,
It keeps my mind consumed.

It's filled with sacred visions,
And hieroglyphic scenes.
No one else can see it there,
Hidden in my dreams.

I live inside a wigwam,
Curled up tight and worn.
In a feral fetal position,
Safe from trepid storms.

I come out late at night,
When most are safe and warm.
I roam streets on the internet,
Avoiding social scorn.

I go to my tree house,
Searching for escape.
It's sits high up in tree tops,
Beneath broad leafy capes.

No one ever sees me there,
Those down on the ground.
They don't think to look straight up,
Instead just look around.

I have a buzzing beehive,
That sits between my ears.
It's alive with flying bugs,
Feeding on my fears.

When I try to silence it,
The louder it seems to get.
The only remedy I find,
Is trying to forget.

I wish I were an Eskimo,
An In-jun, bird or bee.
A person that nobody knows,
Someone else but me.

I'd climb into my igloo,
Wigwam or tee-pee,
Tree house or my beehive,
Just so I'd be free.

All are places that I seek,
Retreats from social pain.
Houses of mental shelter,
Igloos in my brain.



Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm115
010210