Sometimes, I begin to laugh hysterically at the oddity of existing,

No so much as a happy feeling, but in a wonder stunned way.

It’s incomprehensible thinking of my form wandering about space,

Somehow a pocket of precipitating thought standing atop a world,

With its revolving mix of stunning horrors and wonderous beauty.

So much so, that sometimes I feel dissociated from myself,

Observing my comically bumbling body meander physicality,

Bemused at the rolling imagery that my dark mind conjures,

Each scene passing before me as though it was all a dream,

Something unreal about it, something bizarre, or ephemeral.

And when watching my body walk, I feel for it as a hollow lightmass,

And seeing inner thoughts flow, makes me realize they're not mine,

And realizing I’m watching both occur, takes me very far from here.

And when in that state of flattened feeling and dissociated observation,

If I'm being perfectly honest, non-existence makes far more sense to me,

It seems more definable than the mixing of horrified wonder I feel existing.

I mean, how really could all this exist?

Really? Have you thought about this?

I'm sorry, so sorry indeed, I've begun laughing a heave,

But worry not, I'm sure I'll soon tire into exhausted tears,

Where each drop will weigh heavy churning in emotion.

It all just seems so silly, a joke beneath,

Yet, so sad that we create it tragically.

But, I suppose, some jokes can be cruel,

And, I suppose, I laugh hardest in tears,

And in between, I watch from far away.