to some sort of sleep
and there's this noise
and it's so silent that it's loud
and it's so deafening that it's drenching.
I'm desperately derailed--
my thinking askew--
the ponderances of my pensive and paltry pain
a pittance for this parade of petty flourishes
that are my attempts to reconcile the
ocean of risiduality with my present.
I'm waking up
divinely deranged.
Each moment further from faith
and I'm falling into this farce
with it's characters that flail and
fake ferocious facades of fortitude.
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