I have the clarity of those dying,
of the ones chained to train tracks;
Death's horn, or a nearing crescendo.

A sane person would attempt to escape
the destiny of the railroad sentence, but
I laugh at the train's blaring tone.

Before the train's verdict,
I tease Death.
I am in love with the inevitable.

I live in Limbo.
On average, I am void of emotions besides
inconsistent periods of mourning and mania.

I have mastered astral projection, or intentionally intense dissociation.
Analyzation is simply a cycle of combustions, or synapses sparking connections.
I struggle with the sanity to stop searching.

Why do I, alive, act as the dying do?
To test my humanity when I feel as if
I am f a d i n g a w a y.

I am the host of a funeral party for myself as
I relate to loss more than anything else.
This is my eulogy.

Featured Art: Unknown