Ignited oil upon the griddle,
burning words, that mind fiddle,
confusion in meanings and context,
the futures behind me, but what is next.

The past is always tomorrow away,
and you live yesterday, like today,
the clock spins and unwinds,
yet you never regain the time.

The colors fade, but darkness brightens,
the grinning and laughter now it frightens,
the dreaded smile, and welcomed frown,
knowing that you never always let down.

Circular logic like a rubber ball,
always bouncing, but never falls,
sitting still in chronic motion,
sinking high into the ocean.

Occam's razor heals the skin,
Schrodinger's cat is always within,
The box is closed but nothing is concealed,
Cosby's Jell-O has congealed.

Where this goes,
everyone knows,
yet the knowledge is never learned,
and the ice fire can never burn.