His theory is conspiracy
Paranoia, his best friend
Delusion fluffs his pillow
Terror shares his bed

Strangers come and go
Slipping past his unseen fears
Leaving cryptic messages
No one else can hear

Doom and gloom for breakfast
Anxiety for lunch
Anger’s left for dinner
Hypochondria’s a crutch

Panic in his pockets
Indecision lines his shoes
Compulsion is his driver
Histrionics is his muse

Reality’s the enemy
Deception is his grace
Agoraphobia is home now
Catatonia his safe

“Fucked Up” the diagnosis
But what do doctors know?
“There’s nothing wrong” he’ll tell you
It’s all part of the show

sc2013