I stand on the precipice of insanity, curiously peering over, wondering at the feeling of that detached air caressing my face, whispering in my ear; at the attempt to lean further, the hands holding me grasp my attention, I will not dive, not to those unseen depths, I will not climb, not to those blasphemous heights; oh how I long to swim, no, fear to drown, in those other-wordly waters, oh how they draw me in; I will snap every connection in my brain like a glowstick, and walk in a light none other can ever see, I will float among the stars of a galaxy that belongs only to me; I look up at the mountain of delusion, scream for her avalanche to wipe me away, no, to wipe away my chains, to set me free; my wrists strain against their chains, no, your hands, even as my feet leave the ground; I will live in psychotic freedom, bathe in deranged waters, sup on the imaginary; if only I can escape, if only I can break, the grip of reality