The number of worlds that exist
Just inside my mind
Is enough for someone to insist
That there is a mistake in my design.

They stir and they shake,
Yet nothing can compare
To when you smile for my sake
Or run a hand through your hair.

When I'm with you I feel
As if I'm in the imaginary;
I forget that it's real,
Not crafted by the words in me.

It's only when I think back,
When I am trying to sleep,
That I remember it's not mind crack;
That I might be in too deep.