The questions of one's decent into madness.
   The clock rivets your attention to second hands
   exploding in real time upon your city weary mind.
   Truth is impossible to discern. Naked as the air.

   My world is my own unlike normal ones. I suffer
   all the more for it. Try living in order when you
   are denied reality. Hallucinate and speak **** at
   parties and deny god or insist on His grand creation.

   It accumulates. Crowds each way I look are monsters.
   Pills quiet my world. I can't even hear my heart.
   If you've never heard silence it's a God awful sound.
   Jobs are hard to find with my history. I sell my soul.