I dwell within such realms
where mind do wander.

Such a dimension
where my objective knows no norm.

My ink does flow but only
slowly so.

So when I say boredom has engulfed me,
I say with a wandering mind.

A mind seeing and doing all.

Yet why does boredom engulf
me; My Melancholy

Do the smells ring potent?
The omniscient memories that creep
Because with one sense comes another
but why is the smell a trigger.
Like a intruder, it knocks
and my memories answer.
These smells ring potent
and I cry, and suffer.

And for the words from my mouth

I held them still

I learned to never let them go

from the leash that was my tongue.

Even if they would allow me to capture you

in the lasso of vocabulary

with my intertwined words combined.

The chase can last forever

but a captured bird dies soon.

So will you let me chase you,

while I hold my words?