Here is where..... br Madmen write verse for their amputated lovers br with blue fountain pens and quills of clotted ink br Scribbling morbid memories yellow with old malaria br running like diseased rats through cellar thoughts br They cut themselves to see if their subjects will bleed br for their extremities are filled with a royal great pain br Morphine pumps hang from a weathered weather vain br spinning in the wind like some Blowhard's narcotic sonnet br Critics wither in their own flatulent and fowl wind br inhaling the breath of Artisans br Here is where..... language is a lost vagrant br Here is where..... everything and nothing rhymes br Here is where..... br Madmen dissect the bloated toad Shakespeare br inching closer to his truth with every stroke of genius br Verse is stolen from the cesspool of moronic poems br and published on whiskey soaked bar napkins br One in a million will find a star on which to ride br while all others will sink below the bog of verbosity br Disappearing into the darkness of obscurity br left to rot with extrapolated numbers of lifeless limbs br Here is where..... br Madmen guzzle pint by bloody pint of premium Ale br yet to render only another quart of stinking bloody piss br Where cockroach squatters count the missing legs br on the stools where hookers and whores sit eating prose br And Syphilis has been spoon feeding poor Yorick's scribe br a double dose of gambles and song to make a table roar br Horatio counts his money into a Barmaid's cum filled hand br hoping to yet land her to her lady chambers if he can br Alas........ br Here is where..... br Madmen reside within the realm of sanity......