CRAWL
the pace quickens
words
begin to slow
lines become erratic
lose their measure
garble what you write
mix up the things you know
sense of time
and memories founder
blurring what was
and never
could have, been
bending the very idea
of identity, this identity,
now less, much
much less, and, more,
so much more
different
from all it seemed
poems 2 die for 