She asked me have I ever thought about suicide.
I told her only when I was wrapped in the delusion of happiness.
She looked to me as if I were insane then simply left like all the rest.
Clearly my new found insanity was working to its fullest potential.
I was crazy minus the papers.
Madness without a degree.
If only I took my role more serious and not minored in womanizing and alcoholism.
Maybe then I could have a paycheck and been accepted by the finest asylum nearest to me.
To have shock treaments and singed balls.
Be on more pills than seventy year old man.
If only I had avoided the world of writers where I was deemed normal.
I never was all that bright to begin with.
Never claim to be crazy around a artist.
For they can show you what insanity truly is.
Maybe I should of become a politician instead.