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Look around and make sure you're moving...notice that what is shouldn't be, and what shouldn't be...is.
But it's to be expected when you're moving in slow motion. When you want to sit down and pause everything. But the world is forever changing, forever moving and forever rotating. Never stopping, never slowing, never bothering to look back to make sure you're still following. You should catch the patterns, realize that it's all a cycle not a timeline. That time is a giant circle not a flat line. Flat lines are for the dead not the living. So the roots and vines of what has been snag your feet, you fall face first into the hole that used to be something and now is just a void. Avoidance has worked up until now, but you can't turn a blind eye to it anymore.
It's so blatanly obvious of what's going on, that you were never in the driver seat, never even the co-pilot. Then the roots and vines wrap you tight, pulling you in further, trying to make you see what you don't want to see. They both found eachother in their little pool of midiocrity where they both drank from. But you never liked those waters, never had that kind of thirst. What is it that you need to see here? What is it that they're trying to prove?
But like a bolt of lightning, your anger struck at the vines and roots, severing them. Their shriveling severed fingers rot under your glare, releasing obnoxious fumes into the air. Your head spins, your vision blackens...you hit the floor and stop breathing. A flat line....a curved line...a circle once more.
The world looks normal, the tree roots and vines are now once back where they should be. No more wonderland, no more sillyness. You pick yourself up and smile down at the ground...the flat ground...dead ground.
But it's to be expected when you're moving in slow motion. When you want to sit down and pause everything. But the world is forever changing, forever moving and forever rotating. Never stopping, never slowing, never bothering to look back to make sure you're still following. You should catch the patterns, realize that it's all a cycle not a timeline. That time is a giant circle not a flat line. Flat lines are for the dead not the living. So the roots and vines of what has been snag your feet, you fall face first into the hole that used to be something and now is just a void. Avoidance has worked up until now, but you can't turn a blind eye to it anymore.
It's so blatanly obvious of what's going on, that you were never in the driver seat, never even the co-pilot. Then the roots and vines wrap you tight, pulling you in further, trying to make you see what you don't want to see. They both found eachother in their little pool of midiocrity where they both drank from. But you never liked those waters, never had that kind of thirst. What is it that you need to see here? What is it that they're trying to prove?
But like a bolt of lightning, your anger struck at the vines and roots, severing them. Their shriveling severed fingers rot under your glare, releasing obnoxious fumes into the air. Your head spins, your vision blackens...you hit the floor and stop breathing. A flat line....a curved line...a circle once more.
The world looks normal, the tree roots and vines are now once back where they should be. No more wonderland, no more sillyness. You pick yourself up and smile down at the ground...the flat ground...dead ground.
Looks like...: work
Feels like...: 
...
...Hallucinate
^____^