Where do you go in your head?
Which inner nation?
Are you a disappearer?
If so, what takes you into that liminal zone?
What does it feel like?
How do you leave behind home?
How do you slip away?
You are an imagining.
As real as any natural, wonderful thing.
Or maybe realer.
You’re somewhere totally else.
You have transitioned.
A shadow as long as the life
that is now in your possession.
There are machines in your waking life
and they were built to locate you,
but they will never know really why
this drab meadow at dusk has changed you.
So take in all that you can,
collaging all the remainders into new alternate lands,
into elaborate chambers.
Everything’s gonna collapse,
save for the refuge buried beneath your synapse,
nestled in brain cells.
Only your inner nation is worth defending.
Enter the fortress of mind
and raise up the drawbridge behind you.