Within me is a madman.
His rotted yellow teeth are always in view. He screams, laughs, and cries out or just stands, mouth agape, breathing in my ear,
He is not always within me. At times he wears my skin. At times he claims everything I think myself to be.
I am not always aware of his location be it tucked deep, curled up in the corner mumbling quietly or within my mind, his filthy hands wrapped around my throat forming every word that I emit.
At times I care for him. I take a moment to feed him. I take an hour to clean the filth from beneath his nails, to wipe the dirt from a face whose only clean patches are where the tears have ran.
I would spend more time with this madman. I would welcome his presence in me and care more for him than I would myself. I would love him as a parent. I would tend to him as a good son cares for his elderly mother.
I am afraid of this madman though I love him. I am afraid to welcome him into the home that is me in fear that I will awake one morning and some of the things which I possess will be missing, or, worse yet, it will no longer be my home at all and I will be the guest to be evicted at the madman’s whim.
I am afraid I will be within the mad man rather than the madman within me.
So something within me is unwelcome.
I would be more humane to euthanize him but I cannot. It would be more humane to return him to the wild, but I have claimed his habitat.
I fear this madman, but he is too crazed to fear me in return.
Within me I build a cage for a madman. He escapes, repairs to his cell are made, and he is thrown back in when I have him in my grasp.
The place I make for him never holds him so please
Within me is a madman. Have you seen him?