So You Think You Can Think?

Perceptions hover.

All around me.

Seem seamless but sober.

Nothing happens, though.

Except when fenced by reality.

They jump the gun, even so.

They pull me

due North of facts

and South-West of some idiosyncracy.

The perceptions that exist,

are then rethought

the few times, over a tryst.

Still,

by choice

remain unsaid, no frill.

Their bodies same as before

show fake flakes of illness

like that of a sycamore.

And their souls uncouth, taper off

as if gradually being

taken a bite out of.