On the coat-tails of Rhythm

This is me, a stream of the conscious.
Stream like a river like rhythm
like the thoughts might run fast and deep
and sweep me away rushing water,
silver thought-river
like the one that took me yesterday,
the one that threatened to drown me,
like flooding it was thought-begging,
fighting to get out of me
I couldn't write fast enough
like I didn't have the words or the tongue-
that's it, the thoughts had my tongue
and they drowned me while they had stolen my voice
and now I am steeped in the depth of myself,
if food for the thought, well then I am the tea of it,
maybe,
maybe drowning is better in thought
than in water, I wonder if thought can be river
could thought be rain,
cloudburst,
a storm of thoughts...
What brilliance it could bring-
and what would the lightning be?
What of the thunder flashes and rumbles?
Of what I wonder, of power? Of thought?
-or maybe just the killing strikes and mourning,
maybe where the thoughtover comes from like hangover
making thinking sweet poison productive
drink for more than forgetting
as it sweeps me away in it's river of
I don't know what
threatens to drown me in deep,
so far from the shore
of our so shallow world.



And here as I'm writing,
it threatens again
comes stealing me back
a shot of poison addiction
to quench thirsty pain
vicious cycle
and if I take it's lure
I'm gone done for on my own
if I take it's lure-
I'm a fish staring at a floating worm,
bait,
knowing I'll take it
not weighing my options
just testing my will to resist,
curiosity my guide and
my downfall.
this river
threatens me, angry
like it thinks for a moment
I'd dare to defy it
no,
I must have my poison
float
addiction
to drown me away
monotony of the
here of Now like 2D world
like we're so shallow
uncaring
there's no need for a third
somewhere,
what I'm looking I'm lost
and I'll float now
no more drowning crazy shouting silent screaming somehow
I'm gone
maybe the shallow skin of me
a front so the staring crazies on the train
Crazy
yes they call me insane
I agree
I am steeped in Sanity
in thought more than me
more than all that is seen,
seen only peripheral
the fairy-glint of fleeting
flitting
flashing
brilliance
the rippling curtain
to the Deeper Meaning,
to the place where we go
when we're gone to the shallows.