They’re Coming to Take Me Away, ha ha!

My wife believes my mind is disturbed,
That something is wrong in my brain,

My incessant rambling leaves her perturbed.

She thinks I am going insane.

I speak with things inanimate.
I converse with the walls and the floor.
With hardware I am intimate.

I’m in love with the knob on the door.

In gobbledegook I am well versed,

Progressing to nonsense by noon.

My divers tongues are so well rehearsed,

I’ll be speaking in bullshit quite soon.

By my tee-shirt I will advertise,

“Garbage spoken here!”

My condition I will not disguise,

I’m not infectious, have no fear!

I’m connected to the National Grid

Of voices that come through the walls.

My imaginary friends, Gertrude and Sid,
Assist me in talking sheer balls.

My doctor says, “It’s drugs that you need,

Psychotropics are good.

Then again, there is ECT

For rapid improvement of mood.”

No need have I for these mind-bending tools.

I’m happy the way that I am.

Pills such as Prozac, they’re just for fools.

If I’m mad then, who gives a damn?

The world’s convinced my mind’s deranged.

No doubt that opinion is right.

From reality I am estranged,
And I’m really enjoying this plight!

(CT, August 2007)