It may seem like the sane world would turn crazy with the left hearing the alter of the right, of perky, soothing anythings.
Escape. You rise with it than move at all.
As these bones ache with sleeplessness, devoted the work of nothing else than what is asked for or not, temperatures rising and falling.
There is this wall that separates the real from fantasy, for at the left is the reality but you escape, by walls, by closing doors yet it keeps pressing ... you are reminded of it time and again.
Think, or believe it doesn't exist - that you would wish, but it is still there. You move further away as these walls are paper thin and this agony of the scramble of what you hear left and right may just turn you crazy if you stay there any longer.
Wishing, longing it would end. It does. Not too soon to rejoice, just for a while as you situate yourself further. Then as you forget and you return, it is back there, waiting to nag you, to mock your forgetfulness.
Do you close your eyes or do you keep them open ... To escape from this vile truth, for closing these eyes only show nothing else but darkness, of a lonely moon in a dark, gray night, of silent waters, of a breeze that whispers by your hair; it shall pass, or will it ... Just listen to the waves, just listen to me - What do you hear?
Nothing else than what makes belief of a timely escape ...
