|Is it plausible for deranged people to be aware of their own psychosis?|
There is an insect in my head.
I can feel his claws.
Every now and again, I can feel him squirming.
He is getting closer to the surface.
So I reach in, grasp his wings, and tug to no avail.
He escapes me every time.
He scratches at my Hippocampus.
He eats away at my Neocortex.
And he shits on my Amygdala.
I fucking hate myself.
|Temptations, how you tempt me.|
He is God; Not you.
Don't ever let that escape your thoughts.