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the mind

a mind is a constant river.

forks throughout, leading into flushed brushes of forest.

each stream yearning for the next one.

too often they all pool together into one body of water.

a body of one collective thought.


my hell.


where rivers die, they’re no longer.

the constant branching clipped from existence.

my deepest fear.

possibilities of new journeys burned.

I thrive in the amazonian world.

where my mind is not confined nor am i grouped along with every other droplet of water.

you can’t be placed back into the streams.

they flow one way.

for me?

flow long, flow freely.

for our end is an ocean of coupled droplets bled and drained from what we once knew as life.