A mind of paper.

I have notebooks, diaries, and journals filled with fumbled fragmented fallacies, delusional disheveled doodles, misspelled manic messages, scattered and scrambled scribbles, pathetic prophetic poetic paragraphs, longing lonely love lyrics, and mostly bumbling brash brain babbling from a bard doing nothing more than filling pages upon pages, books upon books.

If I ever go crazy there will be a long paper trail leading to an apathetic author, a withered writer, a ruined rhymer, and a vanquished versifier who didn't lose his mind, he just left it on the paper.