The networks of a mind, who really knows when it reclined, started to consume and dine, before untangling what's been; a head of conjuring confusion, a state of light refract diffusion, with a knife to cut illusion, and a key to lock fate in; as it gazes into cycles, that deceive the daylight vitals, and revisits past disciples, replicas queue to begin; like a self-devouring snake, you can't be sure who is awake, if they want to pull the brake, and find a way to stop the spin.
Those moments of drift, that consume and confuse, as the world wraps around, and the visions all infuse, take you to abstract illusions, to unsettled taut contusions, are they dreams or just intrusions, that play out throughout a snooze.
Those moments of drift, that consume and confuse, as the world wraps around, and the visions all infuse, take you to abstract illusions, to unsettled taut contusions, are they dreams or just intrusions, that play out throughout a snooze.