The Brit

When the storm of consciousness

at last overwhelms me

you come as my last defense.

When I'm exhausted

but still must work,

When I'm beaten

but not beat,

When I can't think

you guide my stream of unconsciousness.

I'm who you call the Crazy Brit:

A perfect name, I must admit.

I'm mad of course, but of the kind

That makes a wall with in your mind

Of chaos everybody hides

Which, unreleased, its time it bides

Until it's ready to explode

Were I not here to share the load.

It's okay. I'm still here.

I let you out from time to time,

sometimes for fun, sometimes

because you want to talk,

to say

I'm the fire in your eyes,

I'm the temper you despise,

The Red Oni for your Blue,

Your tornado, half of two!

It's fun to be you!

You dispel my fatigue,

pull words from the air,

awaken my thoughts.

You dare me to dare.

Where, good sir, where?

I find my first words in your sudden narration.

But I'm strictly here by your own invocation!

Credit where due,

Just to be fair.

Just to be fair…

We can go there.

You dare me to dare.