Where am I?
turned inward or out?
My vision
flattens then
expands into parallel
manifestations.

Light reflects
and deceives, recedes
and unbinds
boundaries,
expands into a funhouse
of porous passage.

Do I dream?
Is the opening
linked elsewhere,
imprinted
on the closeted shadows
of unconsciousness?

Light echoes
past peripheries
and flashbacks.
The darkness
coils. I have been here before:
in pause, on the edge.