I’m in the business of invention
In the art of new intention
Making something out of nothing
And falling back on no convention

I’m a spontaneous generator
A clumsy, crude, and crazed creator
Deftly dodging laws of physics
And without a moderator

Unchecked I grow my thoughts too fast
Too big, too bold, but built to last
Fed on dregs and trivial words
And made of insecurities vast

I’m in the business of spinning tales
Of conjuring roaring mental gales
Convinced my happiness can’t stick
And swallowed up in false travails

I’m the master of complication
The reigning queen of brute frustration
The duchess of dismantled plans
And dreams that fell to degradation

See, my mind invents its own dismay
And cannot think a simpler way
Assuming all must fall apart
Thus keeping hopefulness at bay

I’m in the business of delusion
Hooked on sinking in confusion
Stuck with a mis-wired brain
That treats all joy like an intrusion

I’m a wild contradiction
Anxious over bits of fiction
Wishing for the chance to breathe
When this rush is my addiction

Worrying is what I know best
Accustomed to distraught unrest
Small wonder that a happy thought
Is treated like a passing guest

Small wonder that my frenzied mind
Assumes that Fate must be unkind
So even when the tides have turned
I cannot leave Distress behind