Reality

What is real save what I believe,
An illusion all mistakely weave
Around themselves like a collar,
A shroud through which to see.
My whims, my words, my wishes
All carve the 'real' from the darkness.

My world is structured
By the power of will,
With a foundation of experience
Upon which stands a thrusting tower,
Piercing Heaven,
Housing pulsing emotion.

Overtime, my heart reveals
Its traitorous designs.
Each beat steals faith,
Instills doubt,
Wakens me from dreams;
This tower my prison.

Each quake of my heart threatens me,
The beating uncertain.
It rules me.
Tyrant, sadistic despot
Who pains me
Refusing serenity.

But his grasp slackens
And my flesh surrenders.
My tongue dries
As ragged rasps
Pass my cracked lips
Like smoke from a dying fire.

My soul ascends from the vast desert.
Life, once grand, becomes a ruin
As the real collapses beneath me
Crushing life,
Ceasing thought,
And the abyss does swallow my tower.