the mind is truly a terrible thing to waste and taste
lost in a haze
the flowers of filth blooming in the moonlight
the mind harnessed and betrothed to its reflection
the memories of what once was
of who i once had been
of who i am now
of who i have been before now
locked in the prison of a circus mirror
it looked so beautiful
i could stare at it for days
with my eyes half open
trying to remember any feelings
of who i could have been
before i was gobbled up into
the fog
i was that perilous figure standing above the ashes
i had burnt down everything i knew and built a fortress
i have not discovered whether i may still inhabit
its power and still create illusions
i have a sense that i may be a better
magician without its pixie dust
to sprinkle into a bowl and light its
fire of golden excrement
to make what of the body
into what of the soul
but my intuition remembers a process
a certain freedom
that allows the mind to drift past
the parallels of the void
to taste its eternity
whilst not wasting a mind
long dormant
neglectful of the fostering friendships of my day
but i am not who they once knew
i am not who they once loved
i am not who they once known
but i am better for it
death is a magician
not my fingers
not an illusionist
with his spectre crossing into the planes of existence
i am god
i have the power to create
and that does not mean i have the power to dictate to you
your life but only dictate that which my soul
must have to flourish
i see it in a star
i have seen its fires
millions of years before
my eyes could ever interpret
its consciousness
and i am nothing for it
i am neither lover
nor loved
i am neither here
nor am i there
across the panels
across the strewn away boxes
and burnt foil
and forgotten needles
of embers
of pain
i am rather evolved from the pain
i have wrestled with its two headed venomous reptile
for close to 10 years now
half asleep
half awake
but functioning towards a higher self actualization
my eyes were once closed
now they are opening
they are not opened
will they ever open
or am i cursed to dream
but isn't that
the only blessing,