(Light and Sound...)
(Brush of wind...Smell of smoke...)
Mindloss.
Phantoms in the
Caverns where I
Used to think and feel my
Time lost.
I'm losing what I thought was really me.
(Light...Sound...)
No memories
Or remembering anything.
And every dream:
No longer mourned
For they cease to really be.
(Rush of fear...Smell of smoke...)
Do I sense a loss of time?
And how was I led here?
It never seemed to cross my mind.
A drooling, sweating, sticky mess of a person.
A tidal wave that's too big to break and too tired to know
What it breaks apart.
There's no such thing as a brand new start.
(Through your means, and at your ends. Do you find that you were wrong?
As paranoia balloons in the throngs...)
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