Illness

On a declivity of mine I disentangle these feelings, these fears, but they have yet to disentangle whats inside my head. What I mean by all of it and why I did it. I hear nurses late at night describe it as...ferocity towards a fellow human being. They are dubious of my disease, my illness. I demur, day after day from looking out my window, beyond there is no longer my world. I flourish in the pits of my mind where the foliage of my ideas reside within the rue of my illness. I've fallen out with the decorum of modern life and sanity. Or rather I have a disinclination towards it.