Psychosis

It must be a coincidence.

I must be a witness to a stunt.

A victim of religion.

A front for a business.

A monk giving wisdom from a cup.

A bus driven through the prison to bust all the convicts out.

It's ironic, I'm convinced by doubt.

It's psychotic, an eclipse is out, I'm hearing whispers now.

I'm found running around the house with scissors. Ouch.

Decisions like incisions, gouge my eyes out.

I scrounge under the lounge for my visor, what a surprise.