"Your Dissappearin' Act, Well, That's an old Standby"

and so is the title and quotes herein;
this hopefully does
not diminish their "meaning" and import...

On a compromised anonymity:

Relying on other's words, admittedly, serves
as bit of a prophylactic, so to say... but may
they serve that purpose, for now at least, as I
find no affinity, at present (if ever anymore)
for the gift (read: illusion) of original thought
and more particularly it's conveyance.

However feebly, half-hearted and ham-fisted
I attempt to force fit the borrowed words the,
perhaps, out of context, ambiguous metaphor here,
coyness- real, feigned or even imagined there,
the cliches, the over-riding lack of structure
throughout, and not to forget the
ambivalence masquerading as a ruse(or visa versa).
I am sure as can be, dear reader, you will not
be able to help taking all of this as you please;
including and possibly especially this admission,
in spite of, or even despite, all the might of a
forced empathy.

With this held (loosely i trust) in mind:

Second Skin The Chameleons


One cold damp evening
The world stood still
I watched as I held my breath
A silhouette I thought I knew
Came through
And someone spoke to me
Whispered in my ear
This fantasy's for you
Fantasies are "in" this year

My whole life passed before my eyes
I thought
What they say is true
I shed my skin and my disguise
And cold, numb and naked
I emerged from my cocoon
And a half remembered tune
Played softly in my head

Then he turned smiling
And said
I realise a miracle is due
I dedicate this melody to you
But is this the stuff dreams are made of?
If this is the stuff dreams are made of
No wonder I feel like I'm floating on air
Everywhere
It feels like I'm everywhere

It's like you fail to make the connection
You know how vital it is
Or when something slips through your fingers
You know how precious it is
Well you reach the point where you know
It's only your second skin"


By Way of A Postscript:
Many times do I consign these weakly held
opinions to the ether with a mere keystroke...
in favor of the words and music of others.

"...an important but partial truth was blown all out of proportion by an overestimation of the power and importance of the self...
the new-age notion that you create your own reality (actually, psychotics create their own reality)"~ Ken Wilber.

"I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant." ~attributed to Robert McCloskey (State Department Spokesman)

(But then, who could fault you, my friend.)

text message with revisions for clarity(?):

*
"By way of disclosure "he" (the author)
has an altogether not unpleasant fever
and is much disposed generally to dilletantism
and pedantry with respect to ersatz existential-
ism- exascerbated by said "petit mal"

The rest should be explained albeit
insufficiently so, in the author's
ambiguous ramblings (bespeckled with
no little amount of sophistry)and yet
other - (to my mind) more obvious meaning
still should be gleaned osmotically- if
the reader is so inclined."