I
watch what I see with my mind’s eye
when
it is seeing what I see
with
my own eyes
looking
out from me.
In
this way,
it
becomes a precipitation of stills
as
the world around me made evident
with
this adhesion of time.
These
cognitions negate my coherency.
This
view of my reality
is
merely depiction and not confluent.
Meaningful
lives around me
become
only representational.
How
my understanding works
relies
on self-participation.
This
self-evident constrictedness
is
my self-generated pretend.
I
sense a confinement
by
this sensory slavery.
To
me , this is circumventive
as
I use contextual identification
as
my verification means.
I
see I catch myself in codify
before
I ever consciously immerse.
I
depict before I am ever concurrent.
I
labor in this insularity as a personal bind
not
that others around are not in the same
but
I cannot speak for them
in
this vain way.
What
are hazards to me
maybe
commonplace to others
and
vice versa, it seems.
How
did all of this as process
become
so second nature?
To
me, it seems like presumptions
that
have taken a stand within me
and
dare me to challenge how I see.
No
alternatives have formally come forth.
How
I am self as suspect,
I
keep under wraps.
Sanity
is the second line of defense,
internally
against me.
This
all exists, not in the way
that
something meaningful
is
registered and received.
I
am making this all up
first
hand from me.
Certainly
I would have silence to say
if
I walked by you for now.
I
don’t know how to share
the
glitches in these scenes.
I
am not objecting to the content
but
more so aghast
at
the essential means of engagement.
How
is it I became so
sensory
self as suspect?
So
cognitively cross-examined?
So
sure of the slippage
or
self aware of the con?
Others
surely excuse themselves
from
these types of perceptions.
But
no, not for me.
This
is an edge of a cliff,
a
consciousness crevasse,
a
dimensional warp,
a
unnoticed syntactical error.
Something
others seem to easily dismiss
but
no, no quarters, not within me.
I
feel like reality has been exposed
as
a series of movie back lots.
Movies
I was in
and
believed to be true
until
this type of now came along.
At
this point, I don’t know
what
dealing from a full deck could be!
Any
emotional nurturance offered
does
not answer to this surmise.
Actually
any question I could ask
does
not render an answer with ease.
I
feel like any answer I give
is
only talking me down
from
dangerous heights,
not
admitting to
what
I am claiming to see.
I
am past the stage
of
going away peacefully.
Maybe
my senses don’t lie
but
only contrive.
Maybe
they shortcut to an audience
of
expectation’s reward.
I
do not know. I’m too close
and
a suspect to myself about this.
I
am either second hand smoke
or
an accessory to the sensory crime
but
I can’t tell you
the
truth I am now living.
These
words are a sellout.
Soon
I will be a media hoax.
Say
to yourself,
you
never read this or,
it’s
a very odd thought
to
have been seriously thinking.
Then
maybe none of this
will
harass you
and
it will wander off
as
a vagary in passing.
And
for me,
it’s
only been a wink
from
my mind’s eye,
yet
for certain,
I have truly come to see
. . .
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