it happens in the middle of the night
when you're trapped inside your head
that you can really see

all around you is shrouded in smoke
engendered by your own thoughts
shrinking the already small world you live in

it's as though a third eye has been awoken
brought from slumber into reality
where now, through a sheening vision, everything is clear

except is it? you can't be asking questions
like that nowadays, stop worrying about what
others will think when you are yourself

you can see the cracks of personality
which threaten to be released when
you are alone, ever in front of company

they do not need to know your plight,
and so their third eye remains closed,
but yours is open quite wide

it sees and sees, despite wishing to sleep
again, but it can't, it knows it has a job to do
decipher the word around you as though

it were an investigation, keeping track of
everything else except your own actions
letting everything spill, and like a child

you cry about it when it happens, because
you weren't playing attention, there wasn't
a moment where you had thought of yourself, huh?

but you do all the time, and that's
the point, young man, it's always been about you you you
stop stop stop, stop speaking, i tell you

i will remove you from my head, you heathen
there is a reason why sleeping makes me
feel better: i only have one mind to worry about