so i am back to questioning reality, this is childhood, this was my pastime, wondering about things
if i touch it can i feel it, are we all sure?
and who where what am i, really, really, what is it?
is my mind completely operative and completely sound and completely sane or are these just floating heads
are these just stitches in the fabric
is this just an idea with no foundation and no pretend and no beginning
we all must question reality
"it's the small suicides that keep us sane"
and these thoughts that roam around my head with no placement, these quotes without an author
where do they come from?
it is when my mind is clear that it is most filled.