Fractured

(bad poetry)

Its a fully automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
People and signs round corners through time
A super-impositions of inquisitions born of the mind;
Walking through the town I know where I'm going
Until I watch where the others go and know we are following
Convictions, disjointed and fractured, the division of thought sought in matter
Defending all the while our idea of individuality
With its purposes, missions, dualities and intermissions
When we can't find a way to fit what we thought we was when we were in it
Because we never left everywhere;
How lonely are my footsteps, everyone unsure of its significance,
A single note sounded in the chambers of oblivion
And my lonely ears look for the song my sounds might make;
Then between the footsteps a choir of angels speak
As the gods live their silent dreams
Spun of automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
And everyone thinks "its only me".

A homeless man with a homeless mind wandering the memories and histories of "I" -
I am a fantasy, a philosophy, an ontology of a litany of dreams;
Do you have the secret? Will you lend it to me?
The sun shines on my bare feet signifying nothing
And I am empty.
I crave a distraction, an entertainment, and create a need
Give me a meaning so I can go back to sleep.