The Crazies

on

Sometimes I get a case of the crazies
my brain when troubled
decides it wants to associate with them
that they want to talk with me
and on the occasions that they do
they come up with some interesting theories
wild revelations and
they have some pretty twisted ideas
—CRAZY ideas.

There was one time when I had the crazies around
uninvited, gatecrashing the party
and they convinced me that the lightbulbs
all over the house
were fitted with hidden microphones,
someone out there was listening
to my conversations
spying
on my life

which was interesting—since for the most part
I spent my days alone
or talking to the cat
and the only conversations not with the cat
were with me, thinking out loud
it was mundane and pointless
throwaway subject matter.

The only time it got weird or suspicious at all
was when I was conversing with the crazies
themselves
—voices, intrusive thoughts, my brain-invaders;
like an annoying glitch in the circuitry.

which usually concluded with me asking them
to kindly go away in no uncertain terms.

Still,
you can’t be too careful—so
I unscrewed the lightbulbs
and threw them out in the trash
spent my nights by candlelight
my days in the shade
I don’t know what they wanted from me
these unnamed spies
but they weren’t getting it that way.

—Sneaky fuckers.

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