The stream pours, the water molds.
The thoughts unfold, mind state hits the lowest peak.
Who is in control?
Is it me or is it the person you think you see?
Is what you see real, or are you staring at own reflection.
Mutable contingencies.
Deformities and formulations of lost ones who try to speak.
Cut out, who are we meant to be in a world that lost its own stakes.
I see it gather like a river, forming its own strategies.
Conclusions, grasping at my twitching nerves that ache with curious desire that forbid me to my own disclosure.
Begging you, can we close what was not meant to be informed?

Just stop, stop holding me.
Let me go.
Selfish, secretive and hollow as a cold lurking shell.
Do you see what you are?
Or are you merely projecting your inner reflections onto my chaotic imagination.
Look ...
Within yourself you are ****** cracked mirror with a ripple of a murky stream of water that pollutes the ground you walk on.
Look ...
Just stare, and let the water stream.