thoughts refuse to feel
feelings refuse to think

in excited discordance
they drift into distances overwhelming
like groggy jittery sleepwalkers
who crowd the skulscapes shrinking

and a lunatic scripts his genesis
with long-grown inward-bent nails
on soiled sunburnt wrinkled skin
and knotted hair and tangled beard

and rifles long abstracted looks
at targets in his deep blue eyes
and peals out weird victorious laughter
on the aim being hit for sure

and the careless shreds' nudities
uncovers his soul's mists and mysteries
and feeble fingers shake to articulate
the tales in vain the idiots relate

and, amidst drifting clouds of crowds
under the branchy sahdow of his nerves
he, the madman, stands, resisting
the neurographs of moments resurging