Apprehensions and sentimental feelings all riotously riled into one unspeakable imprisonment

Between sanity of self and peripherally paralysing Madness

The capital letters speak for themselves, oh, yes –
bothered by unanimous encroachment and unfair dismissal

Of a brilliantly rational and beautiful brain

Brutalised and insistently estranged from itself a-mile-a-minute. And these wishes to fail at adhering to the Devil with-in will speak for themselves: loud and voluminous, however never quite loud enough to amplify the gifted nature of his utter awareness

Whip-smart and having to start from the very start again, with each of every brand new and Maddening day

A badly displayed version of an imperfect person, perhaps. Such is the hellish crux that gets to call itself sophisticated OCD…

Gnawing upon the insides of his malnourished mind
Specially when his mind doesn’t wish to mind so much anymore.

Have to, need to, know; but is he really writing his very own eulogy without realising it, though?

Possibly. Agonisingly … momentarily managing to dance

With both mediocrity and brilliance—which irrefutably go
Hand-in-hand emancipated
A landscape destroyed. Even if his imagination is still standing

Mesmerised by its bare-naked exclusivity aside wrought-iron resilience