I’m no one that you know,
I’m everybody you have ever known.
Like each Boxing day crowd on Oxford Street
Into one vessel thrown.
Too much to contain in one body of flesh.
I have a dark muse
And a bright one.
And in happy times, the dark muse
Fantasizes of disasters in my future
And the human (being but human) cries,
And the bewildered mind tries
To tie this crazy together,
But the bright muse,
Devastated, dies.
And sometimes in bad times,
The bright muse emerges,
Unbeckoned, adrenaline jacked,
Like some cheesy inspirational talker
Slightly in denial, but mostly on steroids
Inventing new age clichés,
For whatever that other guy has to say...
And the mind watches precariously,
As these two mysteries unfold
Wondering if it should worry,
Of split personalities,
Or of feeble attempts to explain to others,
Its worries of these two ids
But the world likes things, with a neat little bow on top,
And when the mind gets there,
The matter is long forgotten.
But in the process lies its struggle,
Of managing these diabolical twins,
Till dawn, they battle each other,
And a new era begins...
