re:

dreaming again, there is again some clarity in my still mind enough to conjure ideas effortlessly although i do still sleep sedated. It's been awhile, that's all. Stunting my growth as the awkward may agree, it's time to give back triple what i've left rotting far behind. or is it just the still mind that contemplates and contributes most to that community of strangers living dangerously close as animals would agree. The people. the masses. imaginatively recalcitrant yet still so unwise and unwilling to accept the present us, we every, all existing simultaneously so quickly and absently
it's hard to look someone in the eye for awhile, isn't it?
perhaps the poem is different because it knows it might be read