à la côte

tongue tied and twisted

confused beyond logic
should have me committed
living at somewhat chronic
yet mystic
levels of perception.
Damn me to hell,
I admit it,
that at a nightmare’s reception
I abandon the infinite
and
I’m left rather lonely and fatalistic.
Solidity is rejected
Blurred lines get intercepted
by new lines
by fine lines
by old lines
Inception.
How can I break out of a cell that’s been created
by a being that lives in more dimensions than
I can pray in?

and all dimly lit exits come to a close with thick chains.

and all of these hallways
lead to scary rooms in my brain.