The clock in my head ticks counterclockwise,
As my sense of time then loses its hands.
Their shadows start lapping the room’s empty walls.
It’s then that I start to think I understand.
Some Familiar faces, they just looked my way,
But when I look back, I see the backs of their heads.
I know i could explain things I've never seen,
But I'd have to use words that no one ever says.
A name intrudes whispers and escapes my lips,
Of someone I know, but don’t know that I know.
I was planning for things happening yesterday,
With a mind that cannot even perceive tomorrow.
My clothes are there, folded in layers of my truth.
My methods are organized by my own confusion.
The knot that lives in between my heart and my throat
With inhales it tightens but it never really loosens.
To find what is real, i have now learned to search
In The silence that lives underneath my illusions.
Attempts to reshape some clarity from what
I’m sure are just faulty misleading delusions.
A word exists stuck on the tip of my tongue.
My name is not something I'll ever write down.
I’m remembered only by unknown forgetful tongues
Who’ve not ever spoken my name or your name aloud.
I once took a zoomed in picture of my eye.
It resembled that of amphibians or snakes.
I Drew myself as a person, but whole again,
But the person just instantly burst into flames.
I painted a picture of what you'd look like in heaven.
But the next day I noticed it was all rearranged.
I still don't know how I can feel so at home.
Inside this dream that feels so morbidly strange.
