Monday, September 17, 2012

Scopolamine

The dream I remember, where everything makes sense and nothing happens. The only way this world is possible. I was conjured, manifested, like water or a devil.
Nothing is to be feared, so we may be taken care of. Outside, out of control, mysterious.
Significant meaning, inevitable coincidence. Death dance. Enjoy. Escape.
Man made, woman controlled. Looking with my hands for the power 

and with hers for the missing piece.
Consciousness is here, creation is now. I am weak as I psyche myself out. I change my world in hopes of better than the best.
I always forget the bell takes a toll when it rings. My life is lived as silence, no chance of Illness or forgiveness.
I was born with a number on my forearm. It is my age through all of time, the one I reach on a daily basis.

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