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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
| No parachutes provided, bail out before you get too deep? My head is its own solar system on a spatial highway with other solar systems like yours. My laws for physics equate only to me, in as much, as its parts (or sum of parts) might jibe with yours, drawing us out together on some equatorial plane (shared and appreciated) in a widening sea of black and light with fuzzy nebulous creatures roaming in the distance, striking awe and wonder (and concern) should our universe merge in a broader, deeper sea of solar systems (like a black hole enveloping) we can't equate apart or together in a measurable, linear journey through time, equally as widening, or shrinking, by response and rationale, as events that occur will allow for our time spent together and apart. Each operating thing inside my system has grown and been shaped to be assigned formidable equations that can go from acceptance to indifference to rejection of their worth (by me, by you, by others). Some have parallel equations or un-equaling impossibilities when paired with subsets from another system near or far from mine (as I model). It keeps me off balance and constantly questioning what is the point of putting all into words and metaphors with numbers and shapes in fuzzily drawn and conceptualized solar systems in black space; when I could just accept I play a simple game of handball off an uneven wall inside my anatomically correct head for life. No possible way to score or equate, or even try. Anxiety and insecurity knee-jerk inform me to do this. 5.19.21 Just babbling after thinking a little about Inception and mostly about my logic. Words may or may not have been correctly associated or termed to properly equate what I attempt to convey in a rambling journey to self-satisfy the insufficiencies of a mind ever-equating how it 'jibes' within a world it toddles about like a small child...or it could be about trying to write grown up poetry in a finger painting class to be the best student and impress teacher who only wants to know why my hands aren't dirty with work and I assume that is my genius on display. According to Hemingway Editor, this is grade level 5. No sentences considered difficult to read.  |
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