Beside my self

There is an uncertainty that looms in the air.

Perceiving motion that I doubt is really there.

Observing phenomena with very little care.

These strange events, unlikely to share.


They don’t mean anything to me.

It’s just random experiences I see.

It holds no wider truth, I’m no more free,

because I see a face in the trunk of a tree.


It means I’m more open to suggestion

from things that are largely unsuggestive.

It means my version of comprehension

is exclusively my twisted perspective.


Just like everyone else,

I’m an individual.

Part of a blind collective,

acting blithely on schedule.


I wish to be free

and I act like I’m the only one.

I act like it’s just me

who is trying to have some fun.

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