Life of the lucidly indulgent...

If you could compound the mind into a single atom it would create a Universe. Not a Universe of physicality but of the self.

I'm mad.

When and where are irrelevant. There are infinite whens and wheres. Who is slightly more. We are dictated by social conformity. How is a question for those who  search. Why is the reason we live, why is the reason we die, we are only why.

You try to impose on me all your random dispositions which really only are a reflection of you.

Talk in circles talk in squares only then is when and where, but angles isosceles and right are never truly far from sight.

Of eves to come and eves that pass, ride upon yon bonny lass, for tomorrow still to come undone by some unfortunate son.

Whose pire red and glowing stands from underneath the fictitious man and when none answers yea or nay to him I'll thank your earthly stay.

My friend, my comrade in arms is lost for none to have of flowing nothing but what is.

Then stupor and hate befell my gave upon a  rotten unicorn. No true cure but stupor and hate.

Not hate of when, or where, nor why, nor how, but who.

Sulking back into neglect my present  unbeknownst to sadness, grief, to suffocate.

Not only to asphyxiate, but drown a little day by day. To escort away my pain of hate, my own despair I cannot sate, of growing sums that dissipate, into my previous current state.

I'm mad.

Ad when by far and how and why, into the distance I cannot fly, for I am grounded here for now, to hurt, to seethe, recover somehow.

From this brain strange anomaly, of uncontrolled disability. Whose powers of wit and wisdom only curse me in vindictum.

I crawl from out my hopeless well, encountered by the winds of hell, whose fury knows no extent, whose demons pay no rent, into my angered heart are sent, and I to give them recompense, for all the pain in me did vent, and found my mind in two torn and rent.

My story is not what's been written, not of indulging in what's now forbidden. My future holds an awesome sight, and now my life's hardest fight. Ridding myself from this blight.

And still some higher power I do seek, even while the game looks bleak. Instead of riding it out just one more week, I choose now not to sleep.  Lo' tomorrow will come and the day after that, it's not who we are but who we may become.