A chloroformed intellect must rule
my dreams. Upon waking I can neither
explain nor justify nocturnal occurrences.
It seems that an exaggerated form of word association threads unrelated
events like a raft and allows them to drift out beyond safety markers. Although
morning’s reflection shows no abnormalities suffered, a lingering irrationality
permeates like stale gin.
Void of contracts or rebuttals,
today shall be spent in analytical review of things and events leading up to
the evening’s slumber. What could have
possibly spurred such realistic and volatile dreams as to plunge me deep into
the depths of my own familiarity? Seeing
myself as I truly am, stripped of the varnish of civilization, all the while
presenting false arguments in a setting designed for nothing short of failure.
Stifled and found in contempt I am tethered to
a harsh reality and consigned to life.
There is nothing but life in all directions. Each and every avenue filled with the diversities
that life offers; while just there, in the shadows - the unknown consequence of
choice.
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