Dimensional Doodles

Scattered Synapses

Words spilled from his mouth in jumbled strings,
Sentences starting and stopping without resolution.
Thoughts ricocheted through the neural canyons of his mind,
Whispers of logic drowned out by dissonant static.
He clutched at passing ephemera,
Trying to weave coherent tapestries
Only to have the threads slip through his fingers.

Objects wavered in and out of familiarity—
That rectangular prism used to be called something, didn't it?
The names for things seemed to flee just as he grasped at them,
Leaving him surrounded by anonymous things
Unframable by language's coordinates.
Even his own body felt like an ill-fitting shell at times,
Alien limbs not quite synced with his tattered sensescape.

Memories bled into each other,
Past, present, and future leaking across a ruptured continuum.
One moment he was a child watching summer clouds,
The next an old man's regrets,
Then blasted back to some fuzzy in-between.
Time refused coherent flow,
Freezing into frozen tableaus or smearing into unintelligible blurs.

Amidst the tempest of mixed signals mis-firing,
Islands of lucidity emerged briefly
Only to be swallowed again by the churning synaptic tides.
He'd grasp at those crystalline shards of stability,
Pleading for them to congeal into a unified selfscape again.
But the fractures deepened, coherence shattered
Across ever-multiplying fault lines.

Words turned to wet sand slipping through his fingers.
His inner universe cracked and scattered into shards of dissociated meaning.
Lost in a labyrinth of cross-signals and misfires,
He could but drift unmoored—
A shipwrecked castaway on the uncharted shoals of his unmapped mind.

Some days the fog lifted enough to navigate life's shallows again.
But the depths remain obscured,
Haunted by ghost refrains echoing across the neurolinguistic ruins
Of his once-integrated psyche.
A brain scattered, a self in diaspora,
He clung to what slips of sense remained
In this alien shore of unwanted becoming.