A Sad Prolific Piece That Says Nothing of Much Significance
My head is full
Of what? I do not know.
Thoughts clash and clamor,
Creating noises and distractions very hard to silence.
They echo throughout my brain like ghosts long forgotten.
It’s arduous.
And so I prefer to turn up the volume on my speakers until I can no longer hear the cacophony of noise emanating from my own skull.
At least that noise is my own choice,
I tell myself with a lack luster sense of justification.
I close my eyes.
I try to imagine a beach -
Waves crashing along the shore to their own syncopation.
The tide ebbing and flowing with my own breath.
A sign to release my tension.
But the thoughts crash back in,
Creating thunderstorms.
Lighting flashes -
Illuminating the storm surrounding me.
Rain begins to pour down,
Dancing on the waves, which increase in their ferocity.
Colliding with one another -
Creeping up the shore like the bony hands of a skeleton confined in a box underground,
Begging for release.
The hands continue to claw their way up.
At times I wonder, if given the chance, if these hands would grip my throat -
And drag me back,
Down below the depths, where the pressure builds and no light exists.
For misery loves company,
And no one likes being alone -
Even misery.
My head is full
Of what? I’m not sure I want to know.










