Gibber Poem by Thomas Ware

Sanity is truth,
And it is uglier than you,
I wish that I could be insane and lay these troubles down,
Be excused,
But I cannot rest with all these lies,
I cannot lie unless I try,
To discern the truth,
But even so the stories,
The enigmas,
Discarding stigmas,
Finding the truth no matter how gory,
Is so boring,
It's extraordin-
Ary,
And nary a word comes to me before I try and analyze it,
Metastasizing in my head until I find the truth and lies,
Inside it,
The truth, and hence being sane,
Is a drag,
And it's so sad,
But all the books and poems are all a game,
Can't rest until I win it,
Upend it,
See what's underneath,
Devour it with mighty teeth,
If I weren't sane they would be filed,
What a disturbing child,
The world is so stir-crazy,
Psychopath lane-y,
Psychologists continually fail to save me,
From my own mind,
But they need to worry about the world around me,
Surrounding,
It's just so messed up,
So confusing,
I find refuge in the spooky,
In the horror and the menace and the fear.

No matter how scared I do get,
It speaks to me the world they inhabit,
Has the supernatural,
Has a world that can't be boiled down to TRUTH,
That ugly master,
The day that truth came was a disaster,
For truth takes all the mystery out of this life,
And in other worlds, a fantasy,
I find motivation to continue to be,
Happy endings or sad,
It doesn't matt-
Er, I'm gladder,
They show me a new secret realm,
Where magic's real and the dead don't stay dead,
Where monsters walk but greater then,
Them, the heroes save us from every whim,
Every delusion and nightmare faced,
By those who seem to be outpaced,
By the lightning of technology,
There represents hope and a lobotomy,
An end to striving,
An end to dreams,
An end to the insanity,
And final overpowering triumph of truth.