The Talking Thought Poem by Vision Ghost

Befalling me into, the sub sequential, passing events
That one is to focus, as so the one voice implements
Such figurines of shadows, from selective mentalities
The provocation of these, compassionate anomalies

Unstitch the fabric, of unconsidered fragments in time
Resetting the stuff that makes me, a substantial crime
For being that of the outspoken figure, of a society
But just what is this I figure, in amongst the identity

Whispers congregate beside me, in collective verses
And continue the conundrum, of sophisticated curses
Stretching out my arms, and find sensations surround
Anomalistic treasuries, vocal loveless, values abound

To when we become the mood, of pleasures we crave
Sudden realisations, that we are the collectives’ slave
For emotional embellishment, saving us from the ugly
Tears reap the saddening, in an unfiltered chronology

That the moment is insignificant, the memory remains
Studying lines within my hands, that shall dropp grains
To have fortified the soil, to which twisted vines grow
Over taken and yet so subdued, by the crop I shall sow

Is this the handicapping, of a life led too fast too soon?
To prevent the impact of knowledge, before I swoon
But nothing shielded, except fate from ones endeavour
So maybe the pain lets me into, the luxury of this fare

Is thinking, the children of a spawn, or a single mentality?
Sometimes beautiful, yet mostly untranslatable in ability
Fathomed and created, to be used or unless so corroded
To be forever impure, or indifferent unless recaptured

Such a depth to which I feel, sometimes is so endless
Just what is there now, left within a mind so borderless?
As buoyant in water, though I float on a weightless air
So maybe I’ve captured a thought, in psychologies glare