Castaway
I claw at them, those untouchable thoughts that thought themselves
into existence, but I slice my fingers through them as though
through black shadows that dance upon the inner walls of caves.
Whose agency is that now that new thoughts should come to my mind
without my conscious conception of them? All around me,
you people, every single one of you, as I tell myself that by my
own choice I harbour you in my mind you become puppets
and then slowly gradually you do my bidding all that I tell you to
which all exists only in my own head.
