and what is even real? i am superimposed onto this world but drifting off in a different reality. and what is memory? we recall and recreate to a breaking point and the past is altered irrevocably. so who am i when i reside in a plane outside of here. and when the world ends we remain in the echoes of etched graffiti. caves in the mind and a chamber of perception. rest, we will board in the morning.