I wish my thoughts were more akin to theirs My mind - a shrink-wrapped, sanitary attic No screeching doors, no running down the stairs The silence never broken by a burst of static Could I be worthy of a higher praise? Yes - is the answer that will frequently transpire I fear it's just insanity that frays My fragile strings of nerves tugged by desire A dream chimera fell with one clean sweep I'm trapped just like them, but at least I chose my maze Not knowing it goes vastly wide and deep In this world I bear watching solely through a haze How warm and silent is the lesser death of sleep... No gnashing of the teeth, no painful flashes Like embers scattered among bodies on a pyre I only see the stars - as they smolder to ashes I've got so many wounds, but slumber weaves its bands And so, with night and lids shielding my eyes I, grasping the cold clay with absent hands Grow peaceful with the thought of my demise