Half of him is in the lounge dossile and unquestioning of his mindless self.
The other half is in the kitchen sick and foaming at the mouth.
Rushing from one end of the house to the other with an axe in his hand.
Shaking and shouting and making demands.
He forms an arrogant unreasonable molten core.
His weak forehead red and sweating, his eyes have lost their colour.
As we plead for him to waken he descends deeper into his living sleep.
His sanity is escaping from it´s safe and stable keep.
For a short moment he´s gone and the two parts of him are one, oh invain
his pride deforms him and bit by bit he splits in two again.
His madness tries to live on in me, it´s call to greatness, it´s false inflation. Yet I overcome it knowing I am but a simple man, a humble piece of god´s creation.
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