“He is he, as I am I, as you are you.” Gibberish.

Oxygen deprivation is experienced as more oxygen is replaced by carcinogens as I stare in bewilderment.

"But he is to you as I am to him. You are me. You are him. You are us. But you are not yourself which means that I am all, fore you can not be me if you are not you." More gibberish.

He? Who is he? And who are you? I know who I am. But "you" claim I don't. How can you know who I am if I don't know who you are?

"Silly question. Of course I know. Because your lack of knowing is why I am here, I bring forth explanation. Clarification. Distributing that which I know to be true: you are not you."

Syringe. With practiced precision it pierces the skin without so much as a flinch, the balance that holds life together injected. It now flows in my system and I let out my traditional sigh of relief. A little more time. Extension.

You? Him? I? What?

Perception becomes uncontrolled. It is careening out of control like a top that holds the world together, spinning, spinning, spins to maintain balance is now faltering, slowing and threatening to topple off the pedestal that wasn't meant to hold it in the first place.

"If the death of one brings life to another and the life of one brings death to another, is that not balance? But if two die and no life is given or if two live and nothing is lost, is that not imbalance? Is that not unlike trading something that's yours for something that is already yours? Like love for clarity?" A hint.

I don't understand, my mind is a maelstrom. Swirling colors, hurricane force, ripping and tearing down the frail walls of reality and existence, all that's known to be true. Love for clarity?

"Yes. Your clarity is yours. Just as your love is yours. You choose when and where to use them. But your clarity is mine. And his. If you are confused, how can you think clairvoyance belongs to me?"

Huh? I looked at him. Strange. His posture seems different. Is it? Or is it my posture? My position? Sitting, thinking, spinning, confusing. I sigh with the lack of comprehension.

"A deer prances through the forest. A rabbit hides in its hole. A bird perched above watches it all."

It dawned on me. Yes, yes, yes... I think I can perceive this. No, no, no. I do perceive it; I forgot. Yes. Memory. Proteins. Stuck some where, it makes sense to me.

I am the fly on the wall in a hallway of mirrors observing myself, observing myself, observing myself.