I am not really sure which way is up or down anymore… standing on insanity’s shore. Why did I take that bridge? The question still vexes me – was it sheer caprice or something more profound…? There would be loads of time to decipher it all. In any case – so you hit the bottom – there’s only one thing left to do: escape… and not just leaving that forest for another. Remember the one fish in that lake springing forth from Virgin River. Such a weird one, too, swimming upstream at 129 km/ph. Is any of this really happening? Reset the sensors, please – back to escaping Zion, due west of my present tense, setting like the forgotten sun. How bloody random to make that turn twice – making sudden autumn burst through the twilight, as the aquamarine domes of the mantic reason deficit fade away… saturating the shadows into the night. Dare to amaze me – all 666 miles, 87 to the next stop – just past ridiculous, next to absurd and always vanishing like mist. My ears were dripping with those dark whispers, covering soft deceits, then betrayed like winter. The harvest moon soon waxes away my fright, making the dream idea into the present tense apodictic. To build that pyramid out of the sacred triumvirate, then scale it over and over again, as I drive off into the autumn sunset. The bonfire burns on the plain… those embers crepitating through the reflection, amiss. And then it all returned to me… such a strange process – remembering how to feel.