There's a ghost in my machine.*
There's a phantom in my mind.
My brain filters what I see
And what I seek I'll never find.
All of the time, I'm in a daze
Trying not to acknowledge my expressionless face.
I once knew a man with cancer of the brain.
He would say the meanest things
And he thought we were insane.
There's a lapse in my consciousness
And when I sleep
My mind delves deep into my dreams.
Somewhere in there
I'm sure there's a place
In which I can see beyond the clarity of this illusory window pane.
I see a chair,
And it's so complete.
I see infinity
within my trouser pleats.
*I know that the original 'ghost' in the machine applies to the mind and not some unknowable, undefinable part of the consciousness.