When I look around what do I truly see? Do my eyes deceive, or can they be trusted? It is as though I am forever trapped within a void of darkness- unsure of what really lies around me, I am constantly reaching out, groping for some speck of the light of hope in the dark cell of my mind, grasping for some further information on this world around me. For who can really tell if “we” all live at the same pace; for who can tell if “we” are all real and not just another chain within my mind, meant to enslave my self? How do I know that what I feel is real? That what I Touch lies beneath my fingertips? That what I Taste truly nourishes? And now that I am on that venue- what insurance do I have that these emotions are real and are not just another part of the truth of the false, the constant of the lies, the sanity of my insanity?

I often wonder, as I prowl the long, narrow halls within my mind, whether I am truly anywhere at all. What if I am merely a passing tide within the eternal and I shall soon be swept away? That what if I should instantly vanish without a trace; would I notice or would I continue my long prowl down the strange halls I know so well? Others, I see, do the same before me; other’s screams echo in my tunnels, for ever falling on deaf ears. Those around me die not in themselves, but in me. Those around me die not in their being but in my spirit. How do I survive this tormented eventuality? To know that one day I should die, cease, either in body or soul- to know that no matter the effort I am to become either an empty shell, finally separated be the tests of society, or a homeless refugee, exposed to the world or worlds in all my disillusioned splendor- that is truly death itself.