I think of the world's most ubiquitous of chimeras, thus sorrow fills my heart
As I lay in bed, under thick quilted covers and so I impart,
“What is it inside of me that spurs such recalcitrance?
Is it simply because I am human? Or in an unbreakable hallucinogenic trance?
Oblivious to all and open to none,
I cannot even recall the last time I genuinely had fun.
But is that always bad? Can it ever be good?
To not be ignorant of earth’s multitude of dire perils, like Little Red Riding Hood?
Maybe that is why I fall asleep so early and wake up so late,
Because deep down inside of me there is nothing but relentless hate
For the world and for the sickly sinners quarreling within,
But then I look in the mirror and realize that I’m his evil twin.”
And so I sit back, head under pillow, drifting yet again into a nebulous state of slumber,
Then I feel its bumps on my forehead, with sweat and terror—the beast’s ugly number.