William Blake had his visions. Ezra Pound spent much of his later years locked in an asylum. Emily Dickenson had her agoraphobia. Edgar Allan Poe succumbed to drugs and alcohol. Dylan Thomas, Jack Kerouac and others drank obsessively. Some, like Thomas Chatterton or Sylvia Plath, gave up. And, of course, my friend Walter Bevan, whose Dead Leaves and Other Flowers was published posthumously.
Schitzophrenic, paranoid, bipolar (manic/depressive), compulsive/obsessive, addictive. These are some of the more common irregularities found among us poets, especially those of us who are not "schitzotype" but have to deal with the strangeness of living and other people.I know, have been associated, with people who would easily fall into such a category but stuffing others into niches is not something I do well. I much prefer to find one for myself, and by myself. I tried on the "schitzotype" label but found it didn't fit. Every day in some way is still a breath away from my own demons, my own addiction. I suppose in my small way, I too am mad. Just another mad poet.