In this self imposed seclusion,
Comprehend the shape of your thoughts.
Silence, to soothe your fevered brow
The golden disease that terrifies.
Figurines that lunge and grab,
The proverbial throat.
The comatose suddenness of it all.
Divine the meaning of all that you are,
And stare into your perception of self.
Cheery at time and dark otherwise.
On this mental landscape
A million myriad paths
All seemingly equal and inviting.
To chose to follow and tread on one
Is the unfortunate contradiction to conviction.
In my time of need
Sound of summoning,
Of desperate reckoning.
In my time of need,
Your voice emanating from realms real
Cut lose from tentacles
Of my own imagination.