Half insane, I come to talk to you as you sleep, You don't answer, our conversation will have to keep. I am the voice in my head, they call it thought, I think insanity instead. Why don't you answer me? you sleep in peace. Grass grows over you, dust goes where once you were soft, and I am infirm, where once you were firm. I don't even want to imagine the things that squirm. I am yours and you are mine. And the worms wait for me too. We humans, when we are two, are fully insane. We are beings who talk to ourselves, and call that thinking. The stars above are laughing at me, and winking. All things are mystery, all life is vanity, fully inane; and you wait for me, under dark skies. Oh don't talk to me nonsense. I find the humor best in pure sense. When the sense is gone I'll laugh again. It's all quite funny, if there is a cruel God. But more likely it is one that doesn't care. We have advice from evil counsel, but the angels are silent. And we are judged for making decisions, when our choices are beyond our ability to compare. I'll guffaw, I'll laugh. I'll march the grand aisles of humor. We'll all have a laugh at our own expense. When we realize that whatever this is, the joke is on us anyway.
Christopher H. Holte