A wild-eyed
And wild-haired man
With a toothless smile
Foaming at the mouth
Ranting endlessly about the raging
Demons constantly tormenting his mind.
Sullen dark circles
Weigh heavily beneath his eyes
From the many nights
Without sleep,
Without peace,
He can't escape
The restless thougts,
Ideas, figures, colors,
Experiences, places and tales
Assailing him like a battering ram
Pounding against the walls of
An impentrable fortress --
This advancing storm
Confronts him in every moment.
Shrill whispers and hushed voices
Tickle his ears
Like the falling rain
But the words he hears
In these snippets of conversation
Are imcomprehensible.
He closes his eyes to
Shut out the onslaught but
It does not wan. In
Agony he clutches
At the thin strands of
His hair that have become
Fewer and fewer, and he
Wants to ease his pain
And his suffering so he
Shrieks to the gods
Or whomever will listen,
'My captain, my captain!'
Random madnesss
Is his constant bedfellow, and
Yet he does not run away
He longs for it,
Wants it,
Needs it and is addicted
To it with unconditional devotion
Of a true lover.
He shakes his head
Resigned to his fate
That this is the way
It was destined
For there isn't
Anything better than being
Poets and Madmen.