Uncertainty boggles down the unconscious
Into a hole of unknown.
Why think what cannot be seen?
Life becomes a glimpse of a dream
Absent of REM.
It's not a cycle
Without repetition.
Write the script
Or ponder the definition.
Are my thoughts yours?
No direction, unguided tours
A religion, a prescription
Unlicensed doctors with pens
Hiding in an enclosed den
Scribbling nonsense mixed with imagery.
Hands grow limps and weary
As minds turn to slumber.
Eyes fall to the dreary
World's trust converted to a clearing
Now in the light my eyes blind.
Cut the string before it unwinds.
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