smitten it his prime
and bitten by bitterness;
must be laid on a doorstep,
someone’s, it doesn’t matter whose —
there is nothing he can do,
shivering as he is like a leaf,
being more than bitter. He is
paranoid as well.
Also, his eyes see stranger things
than those of you and I:
he knows more about our madnesses
than we realize. A theatrical wave
of his hand can absolve sinners
and give extreme unction to the dead.
It is madness.
Remember, his hole-in-the-head heart
is as disastrous as a cooling sun;
he is dangerous when he tells you
he is not. He is mad.