The Universe is paradoxical
In a philosophical sense
To discern no difference between the matrix and our muses
It’s only logical…
As I lay rotting in the follicle
I close my eyes to reminisce and start writing my cryptic chronicle
Amusing…
How memories can exist on both paper and in thought
Yet, it is the curdle of lines on the carcasses of nature that we hold most dear
You see, memories fade
As each day progresses and they become a blurry haze
Yet every thought is never inveighed
Our inability to accept only stems from neglect
Inner child screaming and awakens with cold sweats
Our higher selves aligned
While our inner child parades as a forgotten silhouette
Habitual behavior enshrined within our 3rd eye
Playing like a broken clarinet and burns like a laced cigarette
Let go…
Relieve yourself of immerensis
The past, if not cleansed, will be your sepsis
