god damn these dreams
distant and persistent

i am
small by comparison
bound by
limited wisdom
to a telepathic tempest
and
these days are
complicated

this ghost court is always in session
and the jury is composed of
fractal personalities

upright and silent
with each breath
another thought
passes into
oblivion
in hopes of
being recycled
at a later date

there is no escape
and there are
no more lies to move forward with

yet
victory lies in
conquering the self
egos and ideas
drawn out and dissected
re-rooted and merged with despair
to produce something better than before

everybody has to be good at something

twisted
i have
walked
along a
shallow shore
alone
debating
and waiting
for the one

how long before the gods tire of this game