Your tumultuous cries stifle my soul.

What will you have me do?

You scream and roar, you hounds.

I cannot feed you all, be gone!

Who’s are you? Not mine!

Infested I have become,
an existential crisis foments in

the storm of my mind.

There is no calm in the eye.

Where does peace await?!

An Oasis of the mind…

Sunless Drought withered mine.

Sand grates my essence, grit

fills my psychic gears, coarse,
scratching at my sanity.

Screaching, stinging, DAMN!

MADNESS, MADNESS, BURNS.

Wash across my soul, dear ocean!

Cleanse me of my grit and grime,

polish me, dear ocean, so smoothness

may abound. Form me whole and new,

grind out my chips and scrapes,

revive my lustre, and define my shape.

...

I sit here watching Lord of the Rings, but I fade in and out of the movie. I feel I am not quite here. A numbing feeling fills me, my thoughts cannot speak in proper rhyme. I know not this feeling, but I feel it frequently. No words, but loss. I wish it gone, but some perverse feeling fills me with dread at losing it. I delve into the deep recesses of my mind in hopes of unearthing its full lode from my soul, but with each journey I feel I must dig deeper. This addiction is running my life. I cannot focus for long without my wandering soul beginning to dig away from responsibilities. I cannot understand it. I know the consequences, but I cannot avoid them in my soul. I feel detached and removed from all. I almost wish horror on my life for the existential spite I may attempt to retort. Losing my sanity to my own anxious worries. Part of me wants my madness, but then what? What comes from...