"The Pattern"

It's a beautiful night
 the rain is cleansing the air
my naked flesh stopped burning
I'm feeling the newness of myself
 like a baby or an ancient
I think to learn and learn to think
I'm playing the music
a completely different pattern of tunes
and karma calls us backwards
as we push ourselves forwards
Lovers in my arms
  land-locked in the city
I felt as if I'd found myself
  when I realized I was pretty
The disconnectedness of life is constant
  though connectivity is there
create the activity inside yourself
  there's something in the air
God is on the TV
  the media traps lost souls
The greenhouse is melting my flowers
  wax and plastic and gold
I read about myself
  but can't remember if it's true
I once ate myself to death
  once I starved myself too
Rhymes and patterns start midway now
  I like to change my mind
The freedom in living life
  the ability to make yourself blind
Are the people from the past
  simply figments of imagination
Do I know, Did I ever
  know them at all?
What causes me to change
  the patterns?
Do I do it for effect?
  is it something conscious inside?
backgrounds of paintings
   stars and planets
   trees and lakes
I get carried off in a moment
fall to Earth, was it fate?
Plain things bother me
  I shouldn't be bothered at all
What's this thing called water?
  I'm lost behind a waterfall
The carnivores are alive.
The herbivores are alive.
The omnivores are fattest,
  on everything, they learn to thrive
Shining lights are buried deep
  my subconscious is a maze
I have mice running in every direction
  cut open my brain, it's all haze
I'm falling in love with the color brown
  the deadness of the trees
Was I always alive?
  Are we alive when we dream?
The house is empty
  masters & servants out dancing
I have sticky hands
  I've been playing with myself
What's in a pattern?
  is there simplicity?
  a simple motif?
No one can tell me
I have a pattern of
    trying to figure out a pattern
   Is there any pattern at all?
The creatures are creating
  clay models & candleabras
Artistc notions, unworldly devotion
  to something we cannot have
I love it!
   The irony of it all
nothing missing
  it's all right there
I'm blind and I see
I act silently when I speak
  do you even see me?  I'm not here
I love this!  But what is this?
It doesn't matter...I love it...
and I always will