Detachment

Looking from the other side of the mirror,

Seeing through dirty glasses,

There is something not real about this moment

Like looking at a reflection of a reflection of a reflection….

Something just undefinable,

A gap between my here,

And their here.

My now,

And their now.

So fine as to be invisible but so wide

That one is unaware of the other.

I’m existing in their world

But not of their world.

Watching life as a live broadcast

With a nano-second delay.

Seeing the muzzle flash

Then hearing the shot.

The familiar is unfamiliar,

The same, though different.

Like the thinnest sheet of clear ice

My perception could shatter…..

But then do I return to what was before?

Or am I left with an existence of emptiness?

detachedsubtle psychosis

◄ W.H.O.

As Kamasi Blew ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message