This is a poem about going mad. Possibly about having already gone mad.
I thought it up whilst on a bus, stuck in traffic in Bangkok. That city may have been a contributory factor in my downward spiral. Life, like the heat, is intense there, and an extended period of intensity can have an extraordinary effect on someone, particularly someone who spends a long time in isolation, away from anyone who might be called 'a friend'.
The truth about this rather long introduction is, that I have tried to enter enough text so that those horrible advertisements don't in any way interfere with the layout of the poem, as - I have found to my cost- they have with other poems in the past.
However, I have made an error.
After initially having posted this 'work', I realised that my overly-long intro was still not quite long enough, and that the advertisements still interfered with the layout, and, into the bargain, the reader's enjoyment. I have, therefore, made a subsequent change that should alleviate this. Thank you for your patience.
Well, it just remains for me to say that I hope you enjoy the poem, but, to be honest, if you don't, I really couldn't care less.
I think that I shall never see,
A thing so lovely as a tree -
I think that I shall never kiss,
The lips of a bull that's just lick'd piss -
Off a nettle
I think a dream is hard to find,
Why am I going out of my mind?
I think the time has come to act
Spontaneity, I never lacked
I think, therefore, I am - Oh, damn!
But just not what I think I am!