A whisper
of quiet insanity,
too many voices,
yet they all
speak the same,
too many words,
and they all
sound inane,
coughing through
fits of laughter,
breaking silent
tears, in hopes
that one day
tears will come
no more,
and tired eyes
gaze
and gaze
blankly,
looking at
not what's there
but what's beyond,
what isn't,
what might be,
what of it
sounds fictional,
sounds the best,
and I beg
the voices,
my insanity,
to visit upon me,
the best
of my imagination,
and always
am I
disappointed,
always
never answered,
always
bleeding
the quiet tears
forth,
streaking slivers
of silver,
in a sea
of water-soluble
sanity

Don't take my whispering away...