Ant Smith

All poems

Cured

I no longer suffer brain storms sat outside of time and space
I no longer feel that buzz-swarm turning round inside my brain
I no longer lose blank sections and find I've missed my train
It's official, I confess, I've been diagnosed as sane

I. Am. Sane!

I no longer hide myself round corners when I hear your chat
I no longer let my tongue run loose with clever little traps
I no longer spit out 'thank-you' while I'm looking for the catch
It's official, I confess, I've been diagnosed as sane

I. Am. Sane!

I no longer wank my dick sore every bleeding single day
I no longer smoke my cigarettes in secret furtive ways
I no longer let obsessions infiltrate my diseased brain
It's official, I confess, I've been diagnosed as sane

I. Am. Sane!

"Get a routine,
Stay on top,
Fires can start
In, oh, so many ways"

But. I. Am. Sane!
For in this world I must confess
You're better off with half a brain!
Thank god that I am sane.
Thank god that I am sane.
Thank GOD that I am SANE.

I'm as crazy as the next man so I guess that I am sane
The vicar said the voices all proclaim that I am sane
I've got my diagnosis and it states that I am sane

But the man inside my telly still operates my brain.