my thoughts turn hazy and cold
in a perverse sense of well being
in feeling not safe on this place called earth
where self-worth is a curse to behold
where my tears appear out of fear
and I submit that it's all in my head
that all will be well in this material hell
as the mystically spellbound
seemingly intellectual
festival of my dreams
and all that would be
seems to be free of misery
yet in loneliness
I stress my regression
from the lessons I've learned
because I yearn to be seen
to commit adultery of the heart
with the song of my soul
to let go of the past
and immerse in the glass half full
of pain and anguish to languish
that which attacks my reverie