Reverie…

Standard

we

what is said
if it doesn’t changes
everything a little

I a human
or an organism, making a shell
around me of myself
and then making it a world
permanent but brittle

it was not seen
and seen as me
it was me, think
but guess
it was just a property

it stored everything
and carried scars
and decorations inside
out
a temple and hell
a pond of guile

they built it, and me
ya, vice versa
but awfully pretty

nothing went out
nothing excluded
extremes existed together
with intermediate
as referee

an idea, it was
existed so naturally
that it never noticed
it self
and went on
but something I noticed
suited and balanced
ever changing
noticeable, thinkable
exploitative, deductive
conscious
and “I” called it
Reality

Reality….
is me, ya it was me
slotting things
and making tenses…

till it squealed
unknown
tasteless
in unknown language
devoid of any property

like an intrusion
whistling air, from hole
or an insect in mud
restless, and it matched
some frequency

cracks appeared
and then more squealing
balance disappeared
and it evaporated
what was called
property or reality

and then appeared
a world
and naked me
vision expanded
so expanded
my fragility

but there were some things
which shouldn’t be part of story
you said something
and without your realization
it destroyed, my abode
which I called reality

now I am forming new world
and documenting the past
but what I cant write about
will only be said
coming from you…

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