Topography of the mind

I’ll leave this entirely to you. Note the upper-cases.

Topography of the Mind

Boat rides on a Midnight River

Lost on the particulars and the purgatorial

Fall resides on what we cannot deliver

 

The Hinterland; within and outside it

A cognitive exile

 

Growing in a grassroot Desert

Ploughing for many zealots

 

Eroding the fortitude

And the forted Citadels of the Unconscious too

 

In the mirror of the Factory line

Two odd arcs

Up through the Spine

A discordant harmony

Pushing parallel

Up and up

Toward their disconnected epiphanies

 

And it was almost harmonic

 

 

Almost meaningful

 

Now the factory is dead

It was organic after all

 

Cockroaches crawl triumphant.

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