I scribble my brain on paper
crumpled ugly mess that I struggle to form
into something I might understand
maybe one day it will
become
beautiful

there’s magic in this madness
but it takes a lot of belief to hold onto the magic
when the madness drives you to tears
and threatens to destroy your organs
with invisible illnesses no one believes you have
the doctor and your mother think you’re faking it
and your friends say you’re killing yourself with madness
but you believe in the magic they can’t see
it’s all that’s keeping you from mad destruction

I often wonder why I can’t be normal
just be like everyone else who gets married
to simple people in simple homes with simple jobs and simple children
but simple isn’t my cup of tea
Why must I crave complicated people?
friends with Cheshire Cat smiles
charlatans grinning
I always question their motives but I want them to like me anyway

I fall for the Mad Hatter because I can’t figure him out
but I do love a good story even if I knew he’s full of ****
he’s a million piece puzzle
I try to sort through his magical madness
but he’s snuck in extra pieces
and I can’t find the missing ones
he’s hidden them too well
it’s fun to play with him for awhile
until I realize I might love him
so I get scared and leave him
scattered and undone
every time I see him half finished on the living room table
I’m reminded that I failed to complete his bigger picture
I end up throwing him away
it’s as if he never existed
easier to pretend I never started on him at all
yet his madness lingers
adding to my own
so I continue shaping the madness
hoping to find its magic