Atmosphere

You and I are trapped in the sphere. The good you do comes back to you. The bad does too. You can’t see within or outside yourself. You notice the waves but not the salt. The rug but not the patterns.

I ask what the heart does. You say it pumps blood. I tell you it guilt trips you, causes panic, makes you fall in love with an idea that’s not real. It exists to make you feel, even if it’s nothing.

You’re unique. You’re the same as everyone else. Your brain is beautiful. Demonic. Repulsing. You’re your own disease. You betray your friend and bash a driver for not stopping for pedestrians. You’re a victim of other victims.

Your dreams have meaning. They foretell the future. They bring clarity to the past. Your positive energies bring you life. Negative energies kill you without shutting your eyes.

The scent of sex is your cologne. You’re not an animal. You manipulate your surroundings to suit you. You take and ask for more. You use your children. You forget they’re aware.

What you hide is vis…