Being alone is like being on the phone,
Talking to nobody. Being unique is
Not a pleasant experience, no, not
Indeed. I don’t care to chat with myself
About my shortcomings, nor endure the
Thought, that I am so different from the
Rest. I have visions and delusions, but
Not hallucinations–Every man has his
Limits. So Baker Act me, or take me to
Prison, if thinking perversely is a crime.
I cast my lot with the heathens and the
Saints, just the same. It makes no
Difference, in my book of ways. That’s
Just how I am. I don’t favor him or her,
This or that. I stay the course, even if it
Takes me ten times as long, with zigs,
Zags and drops in between. My
Conscience crucifies me sometimes, I’ll
Admit. Let’s be friends instead.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 