'C o n t r a d i c t i o n s'
Can I fly into tomorrow,
cause yesterday is coming much too soon.
And when I don't think about things that are not on my mind,
I wonder too short,
about nothing much too long.
Cause I'm caught in an opening,
and crying with a laugh.
Trying not to believe in the faith I feel that consumes not one piece of me.
It just exists in the realm of not.
But to undo what has already fallen apart is strictly a function of productiveness.
For I feel no one's touch,
and I smell scents of entities long gone.
As I live in a space that is uninhabitable.
But I do exist.
I exist in a living virtual world,
and the unrealness of my reality is not obvious.
It pulls my breath from my center of being,
and fixes my gaze on the infinite.
For what is not, surely is.
And to believe, is to definitely to doubt the truth.
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