"In a mad world, only the mad are sane"
Clearly stated by K. Akira.
Scary!

What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?
Scary!

Is that a freedom when one has to lose peace of mind? Is that a freedom where finally one has to ask ownself, who am I? And may regret what I have become. Is that a freedom where you search for the thousand Suns when you know one is enough? Is that a freedom where you have to sell the soul to exist a new time? Freedom is questionable.

Never ask that freedom when you are not ready for. Never ask that freedom where you don't belong. Never ask that freedom where finally one has to shed tears. Never ask that freedom where foundation of life ends. Isn't it insanity, freedom beyond control? And you may have observed where weeds florish, lotus thrives.

Balanced freedom is conscious state of being where no outer stimuli distracts, and one could flourish. Freedom in any form is always neutal, but the person who execute it, could be wrong. And forgive me if it is illogical, Earth revolving around it's axis is universal example of how much freedom one needs.

What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?
As the saying goes, your freedom to swing your fist ends just where my nose begins.
Yes, should I repeat that?
Reasonably never ask the insane, what freedom is. At that instant they will justify everything, where they are always right.
It will be scarier that time.
Thus freedom itself is never the issue, for what cause it is exercised, is.
Nothing more.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the dark liquid boiling, bubbling

the steam suffocating; filling my lungs.

My hand around its neck;

my nose inhaling the toxicity.

my mouth falling from the sky;

drowning in the ocean.

Dark liquid surrounds my mind;

i have lost it.

My fingers grazing the magma,

an unfazed gaze on the wall

where the sun twirls.

Slowly sinking in the ground,

a late morning; early afternoon.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the light liquid freezing, static

the steam condensed; watered-down foam.

Empty and shaking
I sound insane
But I really am
So I guess it's ok
Cries turn to laughs
Cries for humor
Laughs for help
Wring out the arms for blood
And the eyes for lies
Pooling on the floor
Seeping through the tiles
Karma’s a *****
But I’ll do you one better
Look you in the eyes
And I twist the weapon
Not for the fun
For the revenge
On all those that scared me
On all those who helped me
Laugh out the last of my guts
Cry out my lungs
Always the same
Repeating sensations
Fleeting rotations
Murderous flirtations
Mourning probations
But it's worth the pain
And the fear
And the guilt
For the ties and knots
They clog up my throat
To appear in my windpipe
And disappear in my scars
Hold back no words and show no silence

Insanity prevails when the mountain to climb is too high.