The Waves

The waves of writing take over yet again. The gates have swung open yet again. And none has been under my control. What a predicament to feel so real yet no be. To feel and believe that one is in control when there is no one at all. It's all so cryptic yet so clear. To a soul that has seen it, that is. I am writing yet I'm not and that paradox drives the false I insane. But when is the false I sane, if ever? I say never. For the insane believe that the unreal is real and it reacts to such beliefs. Its behavior gets taken and influenced. God please take me. Sanity go ahead and take the wheel. For the madness is depressing this system to a point of disgust that can't be spoken. There is no argument. None at all.