Somewhere behind me

There may still be monsters accidentally existing

I have no time for their ghosts or membrane mutiny

Somewhere a childish criminal collects clarity blissfully sidetracked

Simple secrets now subjected to an expiration date

A jar cluttered with light may illuminate its conclusion

Hums fall with clicks inside glass contaminates

Class refrained curiosity made these spaces empty

Peripheral pimps take my scenes for nonsensical renditions

Ticks in the skull while empathy ponders panic

A familiar echo for the susceptible
A time bomb mistaken for clockwork

Helium hideaways complicate an otherwise profound articulation

They fall separately

While defunct damsels capture blue bliss on virtual timelines

It's not real
Light speed fleeting

Grasp the grips for your short sighted ******

Do these chalklines suggest hesitation?

What flaw shall we consider fixation?

Brickwork bygones crumble into memory and highway streams

Falling on fiends lost inside a smokescreen sanctuary

Eyes indefinitely indulging

Porcelain prisms with mindful monsters

Timeline logic lays low for the sake of saner discovery

Downward dazes find hands like phases

No correct callous in sight