From the Journal of a Mad Man
I am a man not at all eternal,
but eternally deep as my soul is rising.
I am devising my demise;
I am breaking my disguises with my own bleeding fists.
I am having fits of madness, and my madness is joy.
Oh, what joy there is in madness.
Truly, when you see the sadness for what it is:
God flipping coins over your head
and it is a coin with only heads,
while you keep making the wrong call-I tell you no tales,
these spells are for your ills, my friend.
Take my hand and swallow that bitter medicine,
for together we go into madness.
I'll light the way, for I tread here every day.
I have made my home in hell
and found joy at the top of my head.
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