Dying Away at the Seams of a Spiritual Cocktail

Today I taught myself how to cry,
I decayed at my seams,
Personal, immobile, oblivious pain,
Transcended above myself,
Someone dying was in my head,
Opened his hands and said,
"Here's meaning, someday perhaps,
You'll become an animal,
Although, today,
You are humanity,
You are yourself,"
I am therefore reluctant to tear away at the seams,
Probably all means inside something of mirrored images,
Ego death,
Glossy trains,
Spiritual cocktail,
Stranded with silence on a deserted island,
Chose isolation and perfectly erased from your memory,
Deep hazel eyes on the edge of hindsight,
Cacophony horns buzzing etching all away of my perpetual paranoia,
Stratified,
Flowing, flowing,
Into the liquid's hands.