Delusional joys.
Schizophrenia induced dreams.
On the verge.
Self constructed reasons to laugh.
On the verge.
Lingering a love that never existed.
Too many sci-fi movies being written on the brain.
On the verge.
Confusing what’s real and what’s not.
Holding on to the hope of being sane.
A million ideas that converge on a single thought.
Hearing them talking trash about me.
On the verge.
Not enough reasons that validate sanity.
Frightened of losing it.
Friends who are born in the midst of loneliness.
That particular voice never stops.
Thought disorder.
I am not made of tachyons! Quit bugging me!
The monster lies within.
On the verge.
