If you would allow me, I would like to invite you into a world that I'm in, and then into a world where I would like to be in. The surplus of this thing called madness has overwhelmed me so. It has etched it's presence within the peripherals of my vision and the groundings of the world around me. I'm doing my best to refrain from the usual written prolix; my most verbose dialect that seem even ambiguous to those of a higher stature. I want you all to comprehend and peradventure shed a scintilla of empathy; the bedlam that is my mind keeps attracting the mad and the sleeplessness.

The monotony of repetition and the lonely nights of nostalgia. In unison, the Asylum within the corridors of mind houses such emotional consequences and dares to formulate an ominous construct; derived by the copious amount of my many iniquities. I am never at peace.

Give me a silent "dark" that coincides a placid slumber. Let me drift within the winds of a comatose state and the ringing of the Sandman within my ear; the melodies of sleep produced by nothingness. I seek such a slumber that transcends that of delving into the subconscious of the brain, but instead the subconscious to reach inside it's own subconscious. Like a dream within dream, but with no dream.

How absurd.