Sense And Nonsense

Blinded by my senses
Minded by my senses
Binded by my senses
Bounded to my senses

Grinded by my senses
Reprimanded by my senses
I roam the streets of sorrows
As a prisoner of my own shadows

Shadows of my perception
Shadows of my deception, of my own deceptive conceptions, making them my own inceptions
Inception of my senses as my fences
And my fences as my stances

Confronted by my senses
Confined to my senses
And defunct of my own senses
All I sense is another sense to sense the sense of my sense

With my narrow sense of the sense, I borrow another sense to tense my sense
With a sense so intense, I loose my sense to sense, making another sense my sense to make sense of my sense
With this new sense that I call my sense, I become a nuisance

And maybe when I actually become a nuisance to the nuisance
I may sense the nuisance of my sense and the very nuisance of the nuisance
Maybe then, I may realize that I have no Sense and I am no sense making sense of non sense with my sense that has no sense and yet is a sense of the very Non Sense.

A non sense of the non sense to the non sense with no sense or non Sense.

Blindly
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