My mind is not my own. My mind is your mind. My mind is my mind fighting your mind. Well maybe not you specifically unless we've met before and exchanged mirrored glances. But of those I've met, of those who've spirit I've shared. To all of those unaware spirit is simply another word for breath. Resonating and echoing. I've throttled myself to full speed, I am but whirring along now. Wishing to power down and readjust towards the future ahead I've seen. What I see is cemented there. Yet all the rest remains uncertain