The Word Cloud

Insanity beckons; am I actually considering
losing my mind in order to buy some time
to just write?
I can't be, right?
This can't be right,
I'm standing milliseconds before
the moment where the ball drops;
writing this is answer enough, I've lost the plot
Spending my days dazed in a mental hospital
may be the spark I need
to ignite my creativity;
mask of masculinity
completely torn off, there's no need for it
when you're surrounded
by psychotics & neurotics, trapped
inside your own psychosis -
I'm a king, a giant, flying through nebulae
on the back of my dragon
embarking on a noble quest or
secret mission, rescuing
my fair maiden or
some other victim-
but none of that's true, I'm
staring through my window:
a few leafless trees are peering out
from behind
the roof of a nameless neighbour -
there's no life outside, no
wind or bird to move the branches
just another dead morning