"Between a normal reality and a dream-driven lunacy"
This is where I find myself, day in and day out. Echoing voices of reason and guidance drift by my ears so picky and volatile. I seem to be belligerent when sober.
"Where is this God they speak of? The one, the One"
My faith rattles in a can of chance, dice thrown miserably upon a slab of painted concrete. Where do they send the poor girl now? How about across the sea, to a plain of ignorance and forget. I seem to be crazy when awake.
"Happiness is bottled; a concoction of aroma and sex"
Human, I walk the Earth seeking few but many pleasures. Simple and basic, do I belong to a category of fate or illusion? I think beyond the walls of my brain, and I am halted. I can't touch ideas or thoughts beyond my own comprehension.
"Stranger, stranger I run from you. Don't touch me"
Enriched macaroni found on the shelves of any mart. I belong in the box of indifference, not stuck with noodles who can't tell the difference. I don't know you, so don't touch me in the mass of millions.
"Chairs with six legs only sit comfortably on sides"
Incapable of correct thought, I linger in the hallway of Psychology 101. Devastated by disfiguring thought, I tend to lean towards the impossible. And try it again, I am inclined to fail.
"Trapped in the place where thoughts are born"
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Submission Name: The Place Where Thoughts Are Born
