confusion settles as the mind clears
grey whispers of clouds lift
as if smoke trickling up and away
from the tip of a long forgotten cigarette
cradling itself precariously on the edge
of a cracked acrylic ash tray
balance shifting every moment of
combustion turning tobacco and paper
to ash  

a magical transformation of matter
almost as mystical as how this moment
alone stands out  from these last blurry days
as if a perpetual scene painted more clear
after each line is removed from the queue
each of varying substance and proportion
relative to the continued distortion of how
these passing hours, or maybe days are
perceived

struggle arises from the battling of unlike
ideology, this cognitive dissonance
wrenching our minds in confused
dichotomies of what is us and what is
merely reflection of the reflections of
others bouncing infinitely between us
never back and forth because at the moment
light returns the landscape has already been
changed forever

its easy to forget who's who, especially
when it includes you, your own self
was put away forever ago, so covered in
dust that it is blurry and ***** and hard to see
how could I have forgotten many things
about myself, these important bits and pieces
left lying alone on a long forgotten shelf