Never-ending Daze

Looking for reality I find myself slipping to phantasm Under the blinding bulbs The irrevocable flashes of the screen Reflection weeps in lieu of a face In stupor, I do not gaze Lest I be seized for eternity Disposition unsteady for days Molding blocks build-up Nest of strands unkempt All for the yearn of adept The minuet hums slowly Easing placate Yet it seethes to something unwanted One string graze wanton measures Winds stop whistling Abrupting a momentary cadence