A walk through my head brings all sorts of memories
The lies that I tell myself so I maintain a sense of identity
In spite of its irrationality
A cell is born in time and splits in two
My mind wanders and wraps in on itself
Illusion, illusion, fount of all fiction
The outer world collapses and shatters into eternity
Angel forms and rings orbit around each other
To sing in distant fever songs
A somber portrayal, the shapes that shift all back and forth
And replace me in my mind
Cast their shadows on the water
And rise and fall like the barrier of my breath
As the world bears down on my chest
(Refracted through clasped hands, tumbling back into void.
A filter through which I speak vedantic tongues.
Am I not simply an array of patterns with grids of bodies
In empty space biting at my heels like the ghost of the flame of God?)
Unrest made manifest
Like ancient threads borne of a barren loom
Grim chance and shaky hands to tease knots from loose ends
It drips down upon my memory
Old pa**ages of time forgotten but yet remaining
Locked away deep within the varnished hull of my chest
Lurking behind every breath or just sitting
Asleep and permeating my mind with restless waves of dreams
Collapsing into puddles
Bearing my reflection in their ripples
Like the answer to a riddle I've since forgotten.