Saturday, January 26, 2013

The doors are fastened and locked,
I am enclosed in this thought,
I become thinking,
hairs stand on my arms,
spiraling into kites reaching for the clouds
which coil and curdle into mazes,
puzzles of endless thoughts,
winged and spitting fire,
tired with inertia, yet
spurting out to freedom,
And just when the knots of agony
unfasten to leave along,
you barge in,
smiling always...
sickening my stomach
housed with thoughts and more thoughts
waiting to die and live therefore.