The Terror of the Error

 The terror of the error
 in the wearer of the seams
 Who knows not they're the bearer
 of the mirror of their dreams
 Will stitch the eyes shut 
as the I's cut the Scenes
 leaving scripts unseen
 Paralyzed by terrible lies 
written by the sterilized meMes in between  
 Scattered genes
 in the bluebeam of The American sideStreets
 The three-ring mockery shocks
 the periphery
 As the script.ers block the locks and keys
 Of the Memories  
 But the tragic smile on the magic lips
 as the neuron slips from the disc 
and wakens from the bliss of the wicked trip  
 Is a sudden flooding
 of fabulous flow 
through the Script that we ripped
 from the Mind 
as we zipped through Time
 in the Spine of a ship that was born Divine 
but torn from the lines of simultaneous Lives  
 Trapped in the fear we forgot
 how to steer
 How to clear the tears
 from the face in the mirrors 
as the light is trapped in geometry
Refractions... abstractions...
 vehement reactions 
against the architect of this dream....
 Who is none other
 than each of the players in the game 
whose faded fingerprints 
on the console has remained 
a mystery
 to the majesty 
of the Script we weave in Eternity
 Til the twisted frown turns upside down
 into a knowing smile
 of memory 
as we reCall the fragments
 of moments 
that wove the seams of this dream 
as the finger of creation points back to We
 Copyright Charleen Johnston 
 (watch the script as it unfolds today, we are the makers of the games we play, it's just a script, a scripts we've made, dont lose yourself in the facade of fate)