I am made of memories
Like photographs stuck on a string
With clothespin
I am a series of thoughts
One commencing from the tail-end of another
Like a giant ouroboros
I am a web of consciousness
Ensnaring, seducing
into the deepest darkest pit
Of an entangled existence
Wires crossed over
Synapses misfiring
I am made of half baked theories
And pieces of knowledge
A flawed perception
Of an equally flawed world