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Thursday, May 2, 2013

only a wink * 5/2/13


I watch what I see with my mind’s eye
when it is seeing what I see
with my own eyes
looking out from me.
In this way,
it becomes a precipitation of stills
as the world around me made evident
with this adhesion of time.
These cognitions negate my coherency.
This view of my reality
is merely depiction and not confluent.
Meaningful lives around me
become only representational.
How my understanding works
relies on self-participation.
This self-evident constrictedness
is my self-generated pretend.
I sense a confinement
by this sensory slavery.
To me , this is circumventive
as I use contextual identification 
as my verification means.
I see I catch myself in codify
before I ever consciously immerse.
I depict before I am ever concurrent.
I labor in this insularity as a personal bind
not that others around are not in the same
but I cannot speak for them
in this vain way.
What are hazards to me
maybe commonplace to others
and vice versa, it seems.
How did all of this as process
become so second nature?
To me, it seems like presumptions
that have taken a stand within me
and dare me to challenge how I see.
No alternatives have formally come forth.
How I am self as suspect,
I keep under wraps.
Sanity is the second line of defense,
internally against me.
This all exists, not in the way
that something meaningful
is registered and received.
I am making this all up
first hand from me.
Certainly I would have silence to say
if I walked by you for now.
I don’t know how to share
the glitches in these scenes.
I am not objecting to the content
but more so aghast
at the essential means of engagement.
How is it I became so
sensory self as suspect?
So cognitively cross-examined?
So sure of the slippage
or self aware of the con?
Others surely excuse themselves
from these types of perceptions.
But no, not for me.
This is an edge of a cliff,
a consciousness crevasse,
a dimensional warp,
a unnoticed syntactical error.
Something others seem to easily dismiss
but no, no quarters, not within me.
I feel like reality has been exposed
as a series of movie back lots.
Movies I was in
and believed to be true
until this type of now came along.
At this point, I don’t know
what dealing from a full deck could be!
Any emotional nurturance offered
does not answer to this surmise.
Actually any question I could ask
does not render an answer with ease.
I feel like any answer I give
is only talking me down
from dangerous heights,
not admitting to
what I am claiming to see.
I am past the stage
of going away peacefully.
Maybe my senses don’t lie
but only contrive.
Maybe they shortcut to an audience
of expectation’s reward.
I do not know. I’m too close
and a suspect to myself about this.
I am either second hand smoke
or an accessory to the sensory crime
but I can’t tell you
the truth I am now living.
These words are a sellout.
Soon I will be a media hoax.
Say to yourself,
you never read this or,
it’s a very odd thought
to have been seriously thinking.
Then maybe none of this
will harass you
and it will wander off
as a vagary in passing.
And for me,
it’s only been a wink
from my mind’s eye,
yet for certain,
I have truly come to see . . .

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