Dedicated to Her Madness

I’m a civilian mad hatter, away by myself my slumber

All of them approaching, hysterical laughing, insane storming gloom, bringing doom

First wave, the men in flourescent work clothes, footsoldiers, tho, propped up on ego by the Tracy’s, they say I’m not gay

Then the teen mercenaries, they say I’m not gay, just look at the photos of a panic attack,

The I’ll do anything for fame, sell my own soul, smokin slimes, follow, they’ll say I’m not gay, it follows

Thru which, the jealous bitches, invisible tho, they say I’m not gay

And I look, and say I’m proud, and they, (all of them laughing aloud) call me insane

“Insane, insane, the slut or witch, what century is it?”

Blinked away,

Gone-

It didnt bother, me, really, its just a dream, isnt it, g? Its a new age, dawning, is it not, obsidian beauty?

Im in love on the moon, drunk: yes, yes, yes, and

OUI, g!

And I’m in love, and care not a jot, I’m mad: yes! I’ll embrace that, too,

I’m bound for the moon

– and you’re madder than me!

And on my mobile, my brother texted me,

“So a green goblin came to your room and used your phone?”

And yes, it was surveying me, along with the airforce, beaming down green goblins into my phone, when really, just a call, would do,

Space time relative to minds, shift like the moon tossed on earth’s ocean, reflection of ourselves in all were doing – not knowing, still relative-adrift, and casting, casting for all were worth – curse, and I, breaking free, will break from my chest

An angel at last, wonderful! The test! Aah, but not now, not yet, for then I remember the maddest quest: I join the mad tea party, find her, lost in the masquerade, and follow my dream out,

All this, in fact, in truth, is called imagination,

And people, in fact, you’re just harmful, with your firewalls to hide your own – arseholes!

And youse are, this tea party youse have, is driving me fucking mad