This door is but a prison, yet it is one I have manifested
That tormenting dimension is forever pleading
But I shake my head, I refuse,
It's an impossible happening
And I shall never appease it

For I've an escape, a palace of my own fabrication
This infinity of thoughts transcends into existence
I match the horizon, I accept,
It's a warm conflux of what is known
This has been my home

Yet tomorrow fades to today, and the past reminds me of present
My manor reforms into that perplexing labyrinth
I scurry from its eyes, I collapse,
It reminds me that all that is real is only suffering
My hiding becomes my hell

Destitutions incarnate themselves to force my depressions attached
All nigh beseeches memory as if repression were reward
I succumb to its whisper, I resign,
Its roots dig within flesh until naught remains
And now this thought no longer stains

So I elect to leave them behind, these incantations now transfixed within my mind
That tomorrow you so easily celebrate is something that I can only hate
I occupy this ledge, my mind no longer on edge
The silent incandescence begs for my presence
It's now all only a matter of wherewithal

But that choice needs not voice
The distance so often left to wonder occurs in seconds as I plunder
Those horns below play a symphony of panic, the shrill cries of onlookers only to cause more havoc
Ironic how even now they wish to abandon me, as if I'm the one in lunacy
And once I am no longer living, as every bone in my body proceeds to break, I realize
I am finally awake