I'm thinking my thoughts in whispers,
only I can hear them,
but they still make a terrible noise.

And through the veil of my eyelashes
I catch glimpses of today.

If getting away is out of the question
when we're not being kept in the loop,
what's the answer?

What is reality?
incredulity
wonder?

I occupy myself by occupying the inner self,
it's usually vacant.