William Wellington wore white wherever he went. William was albino and only accepted an achromatic world. He had crazy conceptions, often offending people in public, perplexing them, threatening to take their colored clothes, babbling about burning blue things—always refusing rational reasons.
Lost one day, looking like a living piece of pinkish chalk, he chatted to ten invisible Iguanas in a park. People gathered and gawked. Standing still, sporting a sullen stare, he sank into schizophrenia as though the land was liquid within his hair-brained head. Suddenly, he started screaming stories.
“Mary married many men
like she was on a merry-go-round
with husbands as horses.
She rode out abuse and affairs
losing love with every pull on her hair
caught clotting blood in the snare of despair!”
Ignoring its idiocy the crowd heard only hellish, neck noosed non-sense.
He hideously mawed his madness; describing it much too dense.
William went on without food or water
Erasing each Iguana in pure poems of slaughter