I may have died multiple times in the depths of the matrix, and the oceans may go deep, the heavens and their feelings, a poet imprisoned, but looking back, I've always been alive, and as I remember it, death was a wonderful thing, like a river flowing into the ocean, how does a spirit flow, I don’t really know, personally, I have a lot of memories for how life happened, how I flowed into the universe, learned magick, and joined the intergalactic space association, but this whole time, I've been under the sun and the moon, a puppet on a string, dreaming as much as he can, this whole time I’ve been alive, and my mind simply wandered, a grand realm, where anything can happen, where all the natural conclusions, simply sat and waited to be recognized, you look, go to the nurse for an injection, a flash, and bam, it happens, my baby, impregnated, so much happens within the lines, so many rooms within the mind, my poetry is currency, for magick and dreams, mermaids and spiders, pulling me to sleep, honey in a jar, a unicorn in Ohio, the moon singing me lullabies, thinking of my mom, all the faeries I’ve tempted, the depths of the abyss, eternity after eternity, it doesn’t take much to give in, ripple and shake, the world exists, take the red pill, recycling and laundry, the mind may wander, but I’ve always been me…

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.