My mind wanders and trips over itself with uneven matter and loose notions at the source. Now that the box is unlocked, complication and resignation take a new stronghold. A smaller amount over which to reign, but a reign nonetheless. My ideas carried out to sea on tiny pieces of draft wood, then dumped moments later on my shores, joining all my others washed up before them. Rank with self pity and murky waters.
Rather than look for a buoyant object, I riffle through the debris for fragments to occupy my time, weigh me down, and complicate me yet again. Natures natural selection no match for the strength of my mind on a rampage of self sabotage.
I pick up what's left over, over and over again, even when the sharp bits pearce me and the world gets dark. For the moon stays up with me and I play her. An accomplice that I know will be back for more tomorrow. When I first notice that the moon has swapped shifts with the sun, I'm yet to determine if I'm still dreaming or never shut my eyes.
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