the sky is streaked

white trying to mix into the deep violet

turning into a soft blue

wait.

this isn’t right

it’s sunset

not sunrise

the sky is streaked

blood bleaching into squid ink 

and claws reaching down to-

wait.

what

can i trust

my own eyes

my own memories

my own thoughts

well yeah,

that time i went out with-

wait no, 

that was a dream 

is anything …

right?

is anything the truth?

what 

do you remember?

do I remember?

well, yes I do

do i?

is that what happened

how do i know

how does anyone know

is it right?

is this mind

seeing anything right

after all everyone sees colours different

does that mean everyone sees everything different

what does that mean?

how do we know this

what im writing

is the same for anyone

what i’m saying

is the same for anyone

how do i know

what i see

what i experience

is truly what is happening

how do we 

know?

-the scelitoon