drive.

the wheels correlate. over and over as my feet coerce their obeying circles.

and i am speaking with my mother about lines and dots and confusing things.

as i unmistakeleably loosing my easy mind.



and there it is.

my "personality", my soul, the soft heart i created begins to fade and flicker and

i am nothing.

chemicals singe and recreate something very real and i become the thing i feared

of homeless and rambling persons.

my vision recognizes no normal thing and dots on the ground become

terrifying.

and when i was two and five and seventeen never mattered.

because i am a thing.

that malfunctions at the sight and sound of environment.





i am afraid of dots on the ground and do not feel real.



what are dreams if i cannot differentiate them?