contortion

 

there must be something i don’t see

and it’s probably right before me

forms, ideas that i dare to dream

but it’s possibly not what it seems

            invisible questions

            begging suggestions

            throwing conceptions

            invade my dimension

                        left in dementia

 

there must be something i lack

and it must be what holds me back

fears, withdrawn into my dream

but possibility leads me to screams

            chaotic impressions

            creating depressions

            resisting compressions

            drain my dimension

                        white out dementia

 

there must be something i feel

and it’s probably what is most real

love, i thought only is this dream

but it’s possibly not what it seems

            internal dissentions

            crushing repressions

            changing perceptions

            alter my dimension

                        burn down dementia

 

it seems

these scenes

are they dreams?

and i scream…

 

-8/22/97

 

to the asylum