I wake up every morning,
and I just ignore the sounds,
of the absent ******* echos,
of a mind that’s gone to ground.
The motions are insanity,
that repeat and verberate,
beating voices through my head,
like ragged nails across a slate.
It used to drive me crazy,
now it’s simply just routine,
watching ghosts around me,
as they move through my daily scene.
There you’re making coffee,
and a laugh just filled the hall,
there you’re singing softly,
hanging pictures on the wall.
Then my mind shifts left,
into what I think is true,
but maybe I should lose myself,
and try to interact with you.
I know that’d make me crazy,
but let’s face it I am there.
I’m ignoring what I see,
but perhaps that isn’t fair.
Reality’s a concept,
and I don’t care if it’s not real.
I’d rather love the ghost of you,
than live a life that I can’t feel.
So tomorrow when I see you,
maybe you’ll smile for me,
and we can finally be happy,
at the cost of my sanity.