I'm trying to wake from the stupor that's been foisted on me. I've followed life's path and completed its deeds. My young, irreverent self stares back through reflected eyes - oblivious to the world morphed and unaware of its price. A doppelganger worn and unknowing of evolution occurred. Yet somewhere inside me that youth again stirs.
The mind gives results by how it is fed - not chosen by conviction nor impertinent threat. Believe hard enough in a thing and the Universe unfurls - reality crumbling and caving to psyche unmoored. Is this sweet, rancid lunacy of ill-faces ingrained in walls made of wood and faux patterned things? In figures of darkness giving rapturous pain when no one's around and the hour is late? Can you hear tortured homonculus moan at night's engorged peak, begging for rescue and merciless end to foul deeds? Sanity frays in these vision-less scenes, and passed-through madness waking liberty from vile dreams.
I keep this inside where no one can see, empty smiles in the daylight give a nod to feigned glee.
