Like a dead enveloped by imperfect reality. Through solipsism turned against oneself.
I roam familiar landscapes filled with frinedly faces
but the voices fade as I drift away.
I wanted to change, I wanted to be better but woke one day from troubled dreams as a vermin, though body didn't change - it was imperfect from the start. No what has changed was mind and heart of mine. Theres no more will, no lust for life and I can only hope that someone comes along with means to end this drift apart and backwards through the well; where orange light beside gives warmth and comfort but reminds of hell.