Trailed

Wake and wait for the haze to dissipate
But I woke long past a decade too late
And I can’t get my thoughts straight
I’m bombarded
Clarity, reality, functionality discarded
A fog of shades take over my gaze
Blues, greens and reds replace whites and greys
Solid lines over time fade into a sketch
As trails linger, hover and stretch
And my poor brain wretches when overfull
A kaleidoscope overused becomes dull
Application filled outside the lines is void and null
Alive in a china shop
I am the bull
The birds have 4 wings
Ladas are Limos
All faces ogres but those you know
And you know this is forever
Waiting is futile
Drift through the end of days in denial


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