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.