Sing the cause of the madness
That did hold on to me fast.
What deity did I offend
To make me summers spend
Inventing my own cosmology
And in myself no longer believe.
Was it the ineptitude of reason
That spelled me to a helpless season?
Did a flaw in my genetic constitution
lead to this manic ambulation?
Or did woe-some melancholy
have its black grip on me?
Experts of the mind I did consult
But I was unnerved by the results.
A diagnosis is but a mere category
except when it's also one's identity.
When you're at your best and your worst
then your passion is your curse.
