Echo of a sip from the Lethe

Ghost of my past selves

claw softly at the door of a

formless future into which I have drifted

and am lulled by a ludicrous reality

presented as truth

from Omni present media voices and visions

that delude me into flamboyant complaisance

while hijacking my synapse and infection them

with, “Thou shall,” and , “Thou shall not,”

as I fade away fade away fade away fade awa….

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