In our heads there's constant chatter,from whom we're not quite sure. A lying, devious, silly voice that most of us endure.The chatter never seems to stop it blethers while I type. Sometimes it uses fancy words, but mainly words...

calling on the winds let me flytending to the thoughts that have been utteredin secrets keep, tulips of doubtand of course this is coded for the immortalseeking the horse earlymetaphysical understandingmysticysim in a glanceglad I got your attentionthis affliction...

dwelling in the internal stormso many shifting landscapesshow so many different faces of meall the while, I must deal with the three dimensional matrix around mewhere it happens everyday... glitchesthat reveal who I really amfrightening revelations sometimesvulerability but so...