I’m engaging with my imagination again. The paint is chipping off my ceiling and the plastic stars are leaping off of my walls.
I’m obsessed with an idea, enraptured in it’s message. Tucked in, I entertain it.
Has the world gone mad or is it only me?
There’s riots in the streets, predictions coming alive, airing grievances all too publically.
All too much, too much of the time, these days. It’s been written so many times it’s almost easy to ignore.
Has the world gone mad or is it just me?
I’m latching onto some figment of an outer limit. I’m remembering that memories remind us to keep remembering, turning this world onward, even though memories are all subjective.
Has the world gone mad or is it just me?
I’m thinking these thoughts as time sneaks behind my back. There’s only two plastic stars left on my wall and cobwebs are gathering in the high corners.
How long have I been in here?
Dawning Creations 
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