Collage (Old)

Everything I think has been thought before
Nothing I feel can feel like anything but nothing
I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to do

Everything I think has been thought before.
And while my mind in make-up is unique,
In deliverance in intention and
In outcome I can only be
The same.
The same,
As all the rest
That have gone before.
My mind is not me but everyone else.
A sea of faces of all the people I know.
Waves of experiences reliant on other’s.
Crashing into one another.
Skulls hitting skulls.
Mouths biting ears.
Teeth scratching eyes.
Writhing, rioting.
I want to blow them away.
Not for an end, but for clarity.
I want to spray them against the wall.
In a burst not as violent as a balloon pop,
But not as gentle as a dandelion in the wind.
So once scattered and spread in a whole,
I can see the sea of faces in its entirety.
And then maybe I would be content,
Kneeling in front of my collage,
Of blood, bone and thought,
Knowing I understood,
At least for a while,
What I am.

I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to do

Everything I think.
Has been thought before.
And it’s only when I realise,
That feeling like this,
Doesn’t mean,
I’m nothing,
I’ll be able to,
Think some
thing

else.

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