At night,
when silence echoes
when all is dark and the summer sky is filled
with stars,
I sit up in bed.
I am an owl of the night —
a curious bystander who carefully watches
hidden from sight,
silent and still —
lost —
as a million daydreams cascade
with whirs of light that faintly flash with the numbing
drone of the television in the background —
blocked out by blips of symphonies
whirring and crashing,
forever spinning like a carousel —
jumbled and chaotic.
Alone in the night,
a mad carnival within the mind
would surely drive anyone insane.

de•ranged
            adjective: mad; insane.

You say that you are deranged —
that you still are,
and that you may forever be.
I sit quietly, vacantly peering out the window from your passenger seat —
(making sure I smother and swallow my emotions from pouring out).

Night
cascades upon the sky.
Smothering the light.
Shadows
fill the once lit room
causing objects to reflect darkness
upon the walls.
I let in a deep sigh
as the gears within my mind switch on.
Full speed ahead
crashing violently
the storm rolls in
the stage is set
the curtains open for the show
my mental state has been compromised.