“I have no mouth but I must scream.”
The injustices thrown at me. I must condemn

Who? Myself? THEM? Yeah! Them!; the ones I think are.

Perceptions lead me to
Discriminate.

The paper illusions that color our minds.

Are we trapped inside our walls or the house’s?

Outside is death.

As I dream my existence; I question the intrusions thrust upon me from who knows where.
Virus from some time and place, forced into my hard built unique universe. Forcing me to see all is not illusion designed to keep away the pain of people and things. That we share a subjective reality. Bah! I refuse to alter my reality. I’m going out.

The eerie quite of the empty streets, as Dylan said “to dead for dreaming”, leave me shivering.

By David Lane

I was born a long time ago.