Nothing:

The language of the forgotten.

Truth being told to the witness,

He says.

Life is but the realest dream

The surfing of molecule tides

Nothing is closest to me

than the edge of the sky.

Dear colleagues, 

Think how many possible ways we could have turned out.

Some thoughts are the size of mountains.

What is the thinker's topography?

Immensely complex;

Arbitrary set frames of reference.

I am; a function.

As such, always in relation to something(s).

I am depressed.

I am cancer.

What the hell did we project into existence?