madness reflects the soul in pain,
revealing
a confrontation with the
unconscious-
a voice unheard,
a mind divided,
a shivering heart that fails to mask the
tangled web of lies
scribbled on a blank sheet
in an empty world;
is it survival of the dawning
or of the ending?
are we that survival?
once known all to well 
the answer
shakes free from what, oneself?
too many questions
unanswered, incomplete
hang in despair,
dead;
the stool was taken from underneath
too quick and regret haunts 
blurry dreams where movements are
foiled, actions are vain, breathing is
heavy, and pain is
nonexistent;
but from lives sought after
wrestled and beaten, 
the mind is a tempest.