What's one more paranoid delusion
To throw on the pyre
Of my imagined self.

I thought I'd notice
My hallucinations.
But, they're just banal
Misunderstandings my eyes make.
Mistranslated apophenia
Glossolalia,
Babeling nothing out my mouth.

And, I hide in the dark,
In a crevice in reality
Alone.
Buffered from the pertubations.
Of the chaos.
Away from other people.

Away from stiumulus.
Flickering unconnected neon signs,
Hearing speech in the percolating nothing of the din,
Flashbacks and other intrusive.
Thoughts.

Like, is this real?
Was that a memory?
Or a dream I had one day
Awake.

I wish my mental health
Wasn't so discombobulatedly asymmetrical
Or poorly written.

Thinking I'm so deep,
Profound, well put
Together.

If only I had the chance
Or motivation
To fail.

Some day all of this
Will make sense.

Or I'll get lost in losing my ability
To keep a thought longer
Than a calling card.

But who am I to hand out
References.
To something beyond what I am.