Small tangles

And frayed moments

In memory

Making the past

The malleable essence of mood---

Reality bludgeoned

By the repress of reality,

Time folded back on itself,

The rapid, fleeting distortions---

Ourselves hiding from ourselves

Masquerading as the world

Outside ourselves---

Once the moment is gone---

Sentenced to some queer convolution,

All moments become

Mere catechisms of the mind.