It goes on in the head,
and too often, manifests itself.
But sometimes, isn't apparent at all.

What spurs the insanity? And how?
Nobody knows.
'Coz the brain is bizarre. And will remain so.

Madness can't be demystified.
Its mystery will grow thicker as
a Ramkrishna or a Mira Bai
attain transcendence in crazy love.
Or a ****** or an Alexander
pursue their weird expansionist dreams.

Who will ever unravel why a Gogh cut off his ear?
Why a Plath found peacefulness in suicide
Or what triggered for a Hemingway to shoot himself?

The 'black dog' of a Churchill chases me down too;
I can hear a Darwin howling like a child within me,
My eyes are blinded by a Newton's illusions
I hold the hand of an insomniac Dickens on an empty street.
And walk the tightrope of hope.

Am I losing it really?
But I feel to be regaining my sense of self
as I try to defy a status quo
and find a reason to be 'abnormal' again for them.
Now, should I run on the road like a possessed Archimedes?
Or yell like that unknown, 'maniac' girl who challenges civilization for its irrationality?