Madness
You think its that I be mad. Yet methinks that thou art mad. Alls ye
wish to do is to consume the ort da bit on it table. You do nothing
see nothing you live as blind swine. Is a screw loose is their a part
that has not been properly connected. Am I mad for abnormal
thought patterns that spin about my head connecting in patterns of
un unuiniformity. This brings to me the insight that is. Sentences
unfinished brandish on my brain. Unfurreled word sprawled before.
I pick and choose through the forest this demented dimension of
mind. Some keep some rooms of their mind tidy, and the rest hid-
den from themselves. Try on some of the other masks, open other
doors. Know your other selves. I sure something else will fit just as
comfortably.
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