Free Thought

Sitting exhausted on the couch, releasing what needed to be.

Bits here
pieces there,
not much anywhere.
Climbing up hill on empty
hanging on through gritted teeth;
a mumbled prayer
just loud enough to reach where it needs to go.
Pulling through layers of mud
dragging decades behind you
progress measured in inches
or not at all
images swirl past you-just blurred shapes
quick flashes of some other place.
Trapped.
Condemned-abandoned
all in one sweep. Gone.
Are you the illusion, slipping easily
behind concealed compartments?
Have you fooled them?