When you lose your mind for more than a quick flipping bit, 

It's always good to have a scribe inside who’ll just take over,

Relaying experiences into utterly useless mysterious wordplay,

The unraveling of mind into poetry for you to debate at later.

Yet, I’m satisfied some endeavour was found in my scribble function while I wasn’t there,

Though honestly, I wish she just gave me an easy-to-follow logbook of where she took me,

I suppose a shadowy mystery narrative is just that much more entrapping to dollop in later.

And alas, or for joy, my flat mood is unsure which to employ,

It seems she’s now willing to adventure through my body, 

As she’s already been voraciously writing from my mind.

But doctor, doctor can you hear me freak? 

She might be getting louder than you or I.