foolish whim

there is no better motivation
for a man
than to wake
to each day
feeling
and knowing
that he would rather
blow his brains out
than wake up
to the same slow death
for one more
day.

there is no better
prodding
than the realization
that all those
that are available
for some measure
of comfort
are at the very least
as broken
as he.

there is no better
challenge
than to live a life
in a cage,

to see the world
from a cell,

to hope
for the unattainable
from within
the illussory confines
of one's own
tortured
brain.

there is no greater reason
to want
to leave a place
than the feeling
that the place
is killing you
in the slowest
most mundane ways.

the challenge is set
and so long
as I do not surrender,

perhaps
the delusion
can once more
become a dream.

perhaps
the fool
might yet
still win.