Thoughts float about endlessly with no certain structure.
Just a shapeless entity to haunt my clouded mind,
Shrouded in dark and relentless confusion,
Spiraling like storm clouds in a mind of tangled vines.
Twisting, turning, poking, prodding, with pencil-point fingers,
Begging for freedom from its hourglass prison.
And so the pain flows down like sand,
Stinging my eyes with cruel sensations,
Pouring out my bleeding chapped lips
To a page, now flushed in shades of blue and red seas,
Melting into purple streams of knowledge.
Intricate branches flowing, pulsing, with blue blood,
Like on these white vanilla wrists, examined sharply by coffee colored eyes.
It makes me think back to computer-paper days,
Colored in crayon box rainbows, made by laughing children,
With chalk covered fingers, dipped in yellow finger-paints.
Oh how naïve, How completely and blissfully naïve.
Smile again won’t you children?
Look at how the luscious green grass rivals the blue sky.
Sweet pale blue summer eyes and sapphire nights.
Yellow crayon stars with silver glitter trails.
Then I fall into dark black dreams under cotton sheets,
With an empty hourglass mind to fill again.