I think in waves. Waves of artificial emotions, deep desires,  run-of-the-mill repressed urges. I believe turmoil is the closest thing I have to joining someone in a receptive-giving relationship. Thunderstorms and tornados and every other body of the worst weather run within me. It pleads with the mind to over analyze any sort of life vest. Most of the time what I think is not what I hear or see or feel or touch or taste, these inner workings have a soul of its own. My chest is caving in, falling into its own pool of blood. A strong base will never compare to the weak beams inside each column.

cole 2015