Stream of Thought: Mumble Jumble

Tingle. Curated this mess.
Hot temples. The lump at the back
of my mouth, beats monotone.
Being a feeler of feelings comes but
with a cost. Rock bottom is deeper.

For the barter: a moment of respite
to ease those heavy breaths. I'd
give up this knowledge. The sunny
ambiguities have turned into cold uncertainties.
Could I, just for a moment, turn it off?

If I could float between puffs,
the clouds, just existing within
the sweet air, hidden by the folds
that cover eyes, numbing, complete silence.

Maybe my fingertips would loosen
I'd be distant, removed but observing
Sitting with those monks, who simplified essense
to the core. But, simply, mortally, painfully,

In this moment, there was no seat for peace.

Thoughts used to sit side by side,
obediantely and organized, just waiting
for their turn on the soap box. To be
the center of enlightenment for her.

Spinning in gray matter, holding out
a hand to try to capture, but then
opening it for nothing. Just muted
mist, resting on her pulse.

Unrestrained, jumping on a bed all at once
her thoughts fight for a turn, but
none of them get a chance. They're all subject
to the imprisoment of curiosity.

The curiosity and buzzing fills a hmm
like a backdrop, for the confusing dizziness.
On the brink of losing it. Grabbing shoulders,
shaking so hard, but nothing seems to work.

In this case, manipulation is most effective.
Pretending until the unreal is real. Nothing is real.
That's how I used to feel. But now everything just
got too real. Too real?! Does this even make sense??

Not really. But still, there are things.
It makes no sense, but still, those things.
Cause flutter, chipper, hope, and stability.
It's in the spirit, mystification of how.

It can't be explained. It's seeking to find it.
Learning, seeking, searching always.
Thoughts are thoughts. Despite the clarity they lack.
Despite the clarity they lack.