The illusion

The first time I knew myself
I was sure I was but illusion,

Inside soft swaddle of a cloth
That enveloped my little self.

There is starman in skycloth
Looking down on little selfs,

I had thought till I saw maya
Spreading to a skycloth itself.

The cloth spread luminously
At night dissolving my Maya .

Starman certainty was Maya
That dissolved in solid world.

Solid world dissolved a  circus
Of abdomen cut by a buzzsaw.

Starman was very circus man
Of my sold world on knuckles.

Knuckles are a dream of pain
Hitting hard on lonely nights.

Illusion is my reality dreamed
Hard on knuckles, soft on bed.

Illusion is fragment of dream,
A night spread out of skycloth.

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