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.