"Metaphor."
At the brainstem, madness hunkered like a bomb
the size of a baby's fist.
It was not a stone as our ancestors believed
because a stone remains stone.
The bomb is scientific.
Madness is mostly disintegration.
The little fist is a little baby's fist.
But if the baby wiggles its fingers, you're done for.
Anything can happen to set the baby off.
You can get raped, take drugs, or fall out with your mother.
You can think a bad thought or a magic word.
A baby can grow into all kinds of baby.
You can go on with your life with the baby living in, off,
or on your body.
Madness is some of your eggs that you
could ovulate now or never.
Madness dams the river in your dick hair over time in a drain.
I know in the end, it's not like you are one thing
and madness is another.
It is a sleeping fist of your own stone dumb bomb dick
damn babies.