I'm bent waves of energy,
Reflected light and sound,
The clash of molecules
- That really don't exist -
With the surrounding areas
- That are really empty space.
So where do you fit in;
Acid-logged butterflies
In an imaginary gut,
Chronic spin cycle
Of an egocentric consciousness.
Grids and maps
Designing this nothing
Into something,
Something to feel, to see, to be.
When an emotion sweeps over me
I am that feeling;
A ball of happy, sad, tired, mad.
So if I say you make me glad,
What I mean to say is:
You rearrange these empty atoms
Into a certain indescribable sequence;
A code specific to your influence.
And even if all this is nothing
- Hollow universe of false existence -
You make me feel real.
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