kaleidoscoping thoughts rotate
patterns change, colours migrate
hard as I try, I
cannot escape-
the penitentiary that is my own
headspace.
I could walk tens of miles,
run thousands of feet
fly forever with angel wings
and dive to the deepest
depths of the sea.
from time to time
when I can't even stand
to be around me,
I put my pink matter
on my bedside shelf
and leave,
for I have better things,
to do with myself
then worry about
I,
myself
& me.
Sometimes I can't stand who I am