a stew of poisons fair and foul,

enough to drive away the pain,

and indeed, the very thoughts I cling to.

Within this brew, I've drunk it now,

I've dropped my dreams and hopes,

replaced them with the bitter

crimson liquid that now coats

my waiting, willing throat.

Small pills, blue, white, and emerald,

their hues matching nothing

clash and contrast,

so easily they slip down to join

the filthy stuff that tumbles

through my stomach

and my mind.

I fly now, soaring aimless,

and the music that I've left

to guide me in my travels

it draws me ever onward, ever upward,

oh, what a merry game is this...

to play at being drugged, but sane,

while the truth is that I'm mad...

...and all the world mad with me.