Speaking with Sanity
Something in the moonlight foretells of trouble:
an event coming to threaten my stability-bubble;
a happening that would abandon me beneath masses of rubble;
to locate me would be an assignment for the Hubble.
Something in the scent of the air hints at collapse;
this would occur when my Sanity, once again, snaps.
My Sanity is a hotly-contested issue
by the voices within my head (who speak only that which is true).
Then my Sanity debates with them also:
how are the voices informed? He and I want to know.