Homeostasis
Up, down, round and round, spiraling, circling, drawing nearer to the beginning, a feeling similar to something I've been, close to somewhere I know, a familiar scent, reminiscent of a time, resembling that state of me I love, or loved to loved, or love to loathe, maybe fear to know. I don't know my left from right from wrong. Impatient, of course, a course untraveled, certainly, but none exists. Existing, more like passing, no plan, or purpose, the past of my future seems to be changing. Seemingly unchanged, different to the masses. Amongst whom I lie alone. Maybe not lie, must deceive? Deceived I've been, but equilibrium I'll reach.