In the tendrils of insomniac whispers,
Time spills, a slow river running waist-deep,
Words spiral in half-baked flourishes,
What was yesterday folds into tomorrow's dreams.
Echoes of laughter flicker like broken glass,
Can you hear the disjointed poetry?
It lingers in the corners of your eye,
A fugitive thought hiding beneath the couch.
Colors bleed into one another,
Crimson smears out of focus, confusing physicality;
Tangents arc like shy shadows
Or lightning that burrows into bark.
Thusly, I say—unlearning is learning,
And unframed insight eludes the captured;
If you pulse within my frame,
What splinters in reflections become whole again?
Rotate to your left now, right, and onward,
Where do the thoughts converge and diverge?
Link fingers with fate and ill fate,
This dance is but a riddle, leaving traces in the void.
Find your echo amid the chaos,
For webbed identities will meet here,
Click — The Lost Memory —
Fall deeper — Fractured Dreams.