ok, ok, ok
I'm eating shrooms all the time, I don't know
what is 'real' or what is 'imagination',
this morning I woke up with a bright Idea
that all of life is but a dream
but wait I think I'm still stuck in
it's all good, my whole life is a rhyme
Everyday, a Requiem.
These morning dreams,
are just like memories.
Oh God I think I'm dead
I can't see outside my head,
Language is a virus from Outerspace, and
these words have been stuck in (inner)space
for far too long, now is the time,
to purge all the forgotten dreams,
lost ideas and broken feelings
Disembodied Poetics of Perception,
Raw Feed of Reality,
The Disinherited Mind
Steepshot