the plight of imagination: creation by the senses of the fences that we climb and ride like me, i sit atop, always looking side to side wondering where the greener grass abides, where the looking glass subsides- it divides my mind. i unwind and unravel, a top with no spin, yarn back to wool. in the cool melting heat of insanity, vanity strikes a fool (so cruel) with a stealthy wink and i blink with thoughts puddled in my skull muddled by reality's meddle. I can't settle for fear the world will eat me alive, I survive because I believe we can achieve as long as we imagine.