Playwrights of Babylon

I'm calm, composed, and nonchalant In debt to my desire I sell my soul to design passion-- To find that it fled from me I play for my heart-- With an elderly, unkempt chess board With fading colors and missing pieces-- Ambiguity has blended them as I sleep Adopted by Reason, I ran from Home-- To sleep, nevermore, in my own skin Disfigured, the hours melt away-- My rib-cage houses their wayward ghosts I am controlled or coerced-- Anxiety crippled my heart's playwrights Cutting off my vexing hands-- Bound in a stock, headed for Babylon...