Dreaming
of drug-dark comas to cure myself
of the pain of the world before me.

My curious mind wants to destroy every road that leads back to me,
to set me free of a life that has become me.
I want it gone.
My existence wants to be set free.

I ruminate on what I’m not doing,
overthink everything about myself.

Dreaming
dangerously of grandeur,
delusion taking over me.

I’m becoming a phantom,
a fake thing.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m really alive,
if I’m really a human being.