Raised on delusional belief
Of deranged cerebral chess games
Forging memories into myth.
Behind the curtain is a puppet master
Reminding me that I'm not an illusion
Ramming their rancid fingers
Into my head.
Deliriously caressing the frantically
Running thoughts trying desperately
To flee the on coming crash
Your wondering fingers slither their way
Through my soul, corroding the crumbling
Walls of a rapidly deteriorating city.
Abandoned after many years of thought.