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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