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&nbsp;&nbsp;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.