from the chosen path worlds pass in distance
ways once important now revealed as false
again the fear to go
and the longing for a home 

like a filter always my own projections
on the things that I experience
trying to [bad word] the stench of my decay

living within frames
my memories are frozen
falling apart
my brains are broken 

in the barren fields new domains unveil
where every impression is a mountain to climb
put down my last defence
floating, feeling the flow 

sometimes encounters we touch like swords
but as the [bad word] we fade
desires remaining unspoken
the words are lost