Confinement

What's to do
So lost in fallacious clues
Hidden in sounding hues
Mistaken for tones
In blues
Loosely fitting but close enough
In need of a rush
So I lie between lines set in times
Before and after mine
Both seemingly as spacious as the other
And no matter wish way I distort my minds retort
Of what it absorbed
This orb clinching at my feet but allowing pieces of me to leave in troops of airy spatter scattered in confined space
Bread crumbs  
To find
Once I loose this sound spirit and mind
I reside inside a rental jeep of particles barely clinging to another it would appear
That molecular solar storm, the
Confined system, is my

Confinement