Time traps, no explanation. Time releases, no jubilation. Should I stand on the shores of my psychic impulses? Be elated as my mind triggers my own psychosis. Do I plan a death of salvation? Or can I live beyond a common expectation. I'd slip out of this body only to reach back for the call of the love one Whose vibration commands my attention. Yes, should I stand, barter, sell or trade for my release.
My lonely steps echo a fragile past. My way ahead reflects a lonely moon And the morn commands an utter gloom.