The realm of disguise.
So apparent is intoxication, however, seen by the masses, invisible to one's own deception in the making.

A nightmare, you wake up sleepless, rushed by acquainted thoughts of the obvious and absolute tedious workings of  your insides willing to wash you out, in attempts to clear your sins.

God can't save me now, nor can the height of which my conclusions barrel off of a building that I once loved.

Home?

Perhaps the sandman that ls offered to me in little bags will allow dissociation enough.