Note: This post is intended for mature readers regardless of age.

Let’s be honest. When isn’t she mad?

Mad with anger
Madly in love
Half-crazed with madness

Take your pick.

She rages like a fuckin’ volcano — all the time. She knows no rest, no reason. She breathes passion and zeal. She chews the faint-of-heart and spits them out, not having the patience to encourage them to the higher road.

And lest she be branded a hypocrite, she deals herself the highest level of expectations and is quick to admit that after a review, she is left wanting more from herself.

Her madness is the raw energy from which she feeds…

And, she is always hungry; gluttonous for the filled-feeling of life, of everything at once, of nothing holding her back.

She lives in her madness, she wades though it; it keeps her warm at night and hot-flashed throughout the day.

The madness makes her wild and unknowable, unfathomable. Its intensity courses through her veins; and she often, from just being, exhausts her friends, her partners, her lovers.

And, when the madness is happy, there is no hope for humankind. Mere mortals, sadly, have no clue and can only stop blank-eyed and open-mouthed when the madness whispers the tantalizing dream of joy in the hope-seat of their soul.