Mad Method

Fierce is the grip

on reality to slip

as on my last sip

begin I do a trip.

A place inside it,

in my mind I sit,

offers a candle lit

aboard this ship.

Steer it I control

my fleeting soul

on board I patrol

as reality unfolds.

Grasping I clinch

my gut wrenched

please me pinch if

lips need cinched.

So freely I express

impulsive duress

from in my chest

truth is confessed.

My trips do relieve

what cripples me.

Reality hard to see

it emits frequency.

Up high on a wave

caution it is raised.

Grab my wrist stay

please cogent ways.

A method so mad

from feelings had

turned gloom glad

but for me is bad.

In madness fashion

I an equated ration

but logical reaction

seems to turn ashen.

Down it goes salute

I do so as I compute

an inner voice mute

it is the loudest truth.

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