A quiet walk by an oasis turns into an emotional unloading. Someone asks the speaker what's wrong, and everything comes out, "like silk," smooth and unstoppable. The spaced-out "a g a i n" suggests this isn't the first time; the speaker has been here before, and the repetition feels slow and tired. The image of pouring "till all but my feet were dried" makes the speaker seem emptied out, almost drained to the ground.
The companion tries to help, but his comfort is just "television buzz," background noise that doesn't really land. The speaker is distracted by their own reflection in the water, which they see as a "sad creature." The title, "fake visions," hints that an oasis can be a mirage, and that the image in the water may not be a fair picture of the speaker either. The mood is lonely and self-absorbed, a little numb, with sadness directed inward rather than at the person nearby.