Restless

I feel as if I must do something.  The intensity of the impatientness tearing at my skin is painful.  I almost feel as if I must jump up in the warm oppressive classroom and declare the absurd, the pet-lover’s manifesto or the definitive guide to scatology, perhaps even the undying nature of true love.  Then, feeling spent, I wish to collapse and let inertia saturate me.  The moment I begin to prepare for the leap of faith that will re-define for the world my peculiar madness I am restrained by the loss of energy from contemplating the leap itself. My madness is the fear of baring the madness within.