Stream of Conscious during a bad nervous episode

My dreams are to far out of my reach,
my every desire hanging in the distance.
The madness I own, the madness I crave,
I want to with sweet desire allow myself to slip to chaos.

To be with the flow, the vibrations of time,
to exist and to not. A silhouette of a shadow
To be here physically, and traveling mentally.
Like a moving picture, fact and a fiction.

With every strum on a string, and every pull on a bow,
every strike at a key, and snap to a drum.
I find myself. losing whats left.
I am my own, I am alone.
With a few friends I've created named, merlot, and pills.
I seen the darkness, I have seen horrors. The depths of the mind
which us mortals keep dormant.

I watch those preach about their "insanity" boasting of madness
and insane serenity. Yet I ask myself this question.
Have ye fantasized the dead, of all those you love, and fucking their decaying heads?
I ask with all due respect, I dare not wish to offend, but this
madness you speak of is my oldest fucking friend.

I lie in wait, in the darkness slumber.
Witnessing my own eyes, die with the summer.
The winter of my heart, the cold veins flow,
I pray so this winter, my heart finally slows.

So I end this dear poem, a riddle of sorts.
Am I worthy of my suffering, or should I suffer so I can worry?
Do I make my dreams happen? Do I cause this hell so?
Yet the judgements I find, come from those dumb shit fools.

Who think evil, is a table top game, who think that the mind
is so easy to tame. I come from the school, where the hell I live was taught.
Horrifying images, the darkest lived memories
Forced down my throat, until I couldn't fucking cough.

I AM my hell, yet I dare not trade. For it makes me greater, then anything you can create.
I am a god in my hell, I am a god in my rage. I AM EVERYTHING and yet I am nothing.
I hate everything about me, yet I love what I am. Alone, dead, heart slowly whispers.
Twisted hope, ohh you bastard. A few to many drinks and I've turned a poem to an essay.

Yet if you read this, with a carnival tune in mind, with the rythem of that melody, you
can find my state of mind. I spin and I spin, and I point at the pictures, of the fake
fucking fools, and their ignorant STABLES.

COME AND DANCE WITH ME IN MY DARKNESS
WHO FUCKING CARES ITS YOU ME AND NOTHING
We shall see who will live, and we shall see who shall breath
Will you come out the same as you thought you could be.

I am quite worried. It troubles me so. The thoughts of torturing, a few select souls
are the only thing that soothes my pain. I feel like death. I feel I am......