Synthetic Trees and artificial flowers
Like a festering wound, my stamina sets there ready to burst,
You know what I mean, yelling at an image, mine, yours- an echoe comes back;
could it be the mirror seeing it's own reflection; calling one back to one,
The created creating the created
Daydreaming while setting on pins and needles; one of them shoots me in the ass; now I'm high.
You mah think this is up above you, no way brother-its just level, even,....now.I can always feel them following me,
I turn to look and they're gone of course
Are you reading this poem,or, is it reading you,
is it applying it's sub jectivity to you,or, is it vice-versa
My manner often betray different forms, I find the distance
between us, begins to grow, as I find my space, we're all together now.