Musings of a Self-Proclaimed Impostor

My mind is like a forsaken, dark empty vessel
often sets off in cruelty and trepidation
you call it severe dementia
you apprise me of all my misdemeanour
the stain in the bed sheet reminds you of all the lives that I have murdered

My body is like a swamp which you tried to thoroughly drain
It's an impassable venture for any previous conviction
It's a weird concoction of monsoon clouds under a bright autumn sky
sometimes it's that minute patch of brown soil in a large green field

My soul is like the stool I am trying to release for the past couple of hours
It's a poignant reminder of self-consciousness
a disarranged cluster of deceased minds
a strange force leading to unsolicited convolutions
or an abandoned silence trying to make love to emptiness

But you were smitten by this unsightly wanderer
Taken aback by my timely  crafty smile
along with quintessential articulation
failed to keep a track of my clandestine footsteps
As I refused to remove my hallucinatory mask