For Jeremy...
I'm not mad,
it just seems that way
when mania strikes
and I'm mega enthusiastic
about what others would deem trivia.
The chemicals in my brain get all mixed up.
I am akin to a robot prone to short-circuiting.
Neural pathways malfunction,
creating loops that repeat themselves
over and over and over again,
creating a kind of an acute awareness
of other's emotions. Consequently,
crowds become overwhelming -
indeed, terrifying. Their en masse
thoughts and moods penetrate my skull.
Major panic attack!
It is the loops that let them in.
The so-called "normal" brain is immune
to this kind of intrusion - it's
possessor is incapable of comprehending
how I process this additional flow of data
and so they fear and avoid me.
I am grossly misunderstood.
I am the actor who became his favourite role.
I feel for the psychiatrists. Suddenly
I am an irresistible enigma, a paradox
their analytic minds need to resolve
in order to justify their superiority
over "impaired" individuals like myself. Of course
it's all an elaborate delusion - this superiority.
My loops will ultimately defeat them:
a mind like mine cannot be categorised.
It travels too furiously, too erratically
and never quite integrates with my body.
It is like an anthill: a myriad of separate awarenesses
radiating out in all directions simultaneously.
The analyst, at best, will simply slip
between the lines of communication
and become entangled within
the abstract metaphors
that define who I am.
Only I can unravel the whole truth:
I AM LEGION.
I'm not mad,
it just seems that way
when mania strikes
and I'm mega enthusiastic
about what others would deem trivia.
The chemicals in my brain get all mixed up.
I am akin to a robot prone to short-circuiting.
Neural pathways malfunction,
creating loops that repeat themselves
over and over and over again,
creating a kind of an acute awareness
of other's emotions. Consequently,
crowds become overwhelming -
indeed, terrifying. Their en masse
thoughts and moods penetrate my skull.
Major panic attack!
It is the loops that let them in.
The so-called "normal" brain is immune
to this kind of intrusion - it's
possessor is incapable of comprehending
how I process this additional flow of data
and so they fear and avoid me.
I am grossly misunderstood.
I am the actor who became his favourite role.
I feel for the psychiatrists. Suddenly
I am an irresistible enigma, a paradox
their analytic minds need to resolve
in order to justify their superiority
over "impaired" individuals like myself. Of course
it's all an elaborate delusion - this superiority.
My loops will ultimately defeat them:
a mind like mine cannot be categorised.
It travels too furiously, too erratically
and never quite integrates with my body.
It is like an anthill: a myriad of separate awarenesses
radiating out in all directions simultaneously.
The analyst, at best, will simply slip
between the lines of communication
and become entangled within
the abstract metaphors
that define who I am.
Only I can unravel the whole truth:
I AM LEGION.
