when i call myself mad
i only acknowledge
the triumph of my own ego
over a perfectly beautiful
non compos mentis
reality

was i not
so hung up over myself
instead of being mad
i would merely be
a fascinated raconteur,
a tourist of untravelled countries

i would not ask stupid questions like
"am i mad?"

i would perhaps just shrug
and see madness
as just another tool
as another way to integrate

i will try
not to fear madness
or even the loss of my own limbs

if i die
or go mad
so be it

this is not bravery
it is only an attempt to be
less ego-centric
to acclimatise myself to
things

it is quite possible
for a man with no limbs
to light his own cigarette

so who are we to lament our own madness?