I sit and I stare, looking so tired
My days and nights blending together
am I up or am I down? Sometimes I don’t even know
Do I know where the words come from?
Do I know what to draw and how?
No to both
I make it up as I go
Is it spiritual
or am I crazy?
I don’t hear voices
or do I?
Inner monologue or demonic oppresion
It depends which doctor you ask
Longing for quiet
but the pills help
They also help sleep, and dream
Dreaming of madness and chaos
Dreams of past mistakes, past failings
Dreams of people still alive who long since died
Why does my brain do this?
Is it a portal?
Am I channelling?
Or am I going mad?
Perhaps both
It makes sleep interesting
and scary
Falling falling falling
Will I wake up?
Would it be so bad if I didn’t?
My head is a weird place
Sometimes fun
sometimes scary
Never boring
I watch too much TV
I could just close my eyes
and have plenty of drama
is this what death is like?
Death a world of mayhem and bending reality
or is it all still and empty
as a kid I was told there would be flames
roasting people
roasting hot dogs
It all burns either way
Remembering something during the day
Did I see it before?
Did someone tell me?
Did I read it?
Did I dream it?
Is what I’m seeing even real?
what if this is the dream
Living the dream
in someone else’s head
Life is a Russian doll, living within other realities
Or maybe there’s just nothing
but me and my own brand of crazy
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