What is masked

The enforced sublimation in voice
And what thought is masked
Thinking of a voice, not an art or a choice
Where was once baseless fantasy is phantasm
In the chasm hidden, deep crevace
Below our consciousness, runs what, watt, what
And what thought is masked in thinking
About my thinking changing
Into a louder less efficient string?
The certain impossibilities. And what shapes
Are made by the tracks, reaction, firing
At the same time, the same thought
In different synapses. What is this?
For all this time elapsed perhaps everyone
Has had this thought mapped and remapped
Into circles so confusing they sit like
Their own slowly sedimenting labyrynth.
What of days gone, and those hence?