Ever since you left me
in rude awakening,
I get up each day to a madness
which seems endless,
when my mind is a playground that homes
psychedelic dreams.

I am confused and
consumed by this make-belief
reality.

But what if I told you
that I am enjoying this little bit of madness?

The constant churning of ideas
like juices sloshing
within gastric walls.

The effortful creation and feverish writing
through midnight
under the soft glow of the night light.