Wishful Oblivion

A flow field projecting images unknown.
Into the dark oblivion do I go.
Scattered abroad across roads untraveled.
Into the deep abyss of memories scattered.
Surrounded by a cloud of unknown chaos.
Feeling like a flower planted in a toxic cloud.
Running through a room without walls.
No shadows or light to guide my steps.
Blind and deaf to life as it is.
Bearing burdens of hollowed out emotions.
Forever wondering why I wonder.
Forever thinking about why I think.
Forever talking about why I talk.
Forever dreaming about why I dream.
Where does life go from here?
Does it end?
Does it ever end for me?