streamofconsciousness with separate sentences

walking the edge, you see the earth from without, closed captions extended to unspeakable truths and the things that exist beyond words. don't even think that you're right because the you inside of you is full of yourself and inflated by a strangled high that vanishes with no more thought than the thoughts you never thought responsible for its inception. the will holds you there until the self-loathing half recreates itself from the ashes of past lives. the ghosts who built your world shove your face against the window of destiny with no concern for the dreams you bought into and the wishes you wished on electric numbers and airplane stars. you can't whisper softly enough because it's vital that someone hear, but where is he, if not inside? is he another anonymous and insipid face passing playing the same happy game and waiting for the unreality of reality to close in on him again? you question his existence. could you be the only one? imagine the whole of your world and the world you silently witness, lost and eternally unknown.