A Recycled Me

Maybe my memories are like that of time, recycled over and over
My experiences like that of matter, creating my reality as my actuality through my memories
And my thoughts are like that of space, vast and yet are a result of my memories and experiences
Weaving the very fabric of the me I call as me

I am a fictionary element living in the dictionary
Defined by the Dictionary, confined by the images and intertwined by the images of my mind projected onto my mind

Cycle after cycle, recycled by my images
Revived by my images, recited by my images
I have become an image unto the image of my image

Unknown beyond my image, I am just a bond between my images, responding to my images, reforming my images
from the memories that memorized me, from the stories that mesmerized me
And yet I am surmised by the rise of the these prized memories

For the sunrise, I think I agnize is just another way to glamorize my image of the sunrise as my apprize for a rise

Aided by my images, graded by those images and shaded by the images within my image
Persuaded, degraded, barricaded and intoxicated by my images
I lead an experience of the past thinking I am fast not realizing that I am just a cast

A cast in the movie, created by the cast, for the cast to uncast the cast that cast the cast of this Mast I call me

I am the actor, I am the doctor, I am the redactor and the very common factor
For it is the I am that is the image of the I am that I think I am

This I am made me an I am for I am to show me My I am, to know me I am
So maybe, I am and I, and the I of the I am may loose its luster and its muster
to be free of memories, to be free of experiences that create memories that create the thought of My

And here, I wonder……

Recite

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