it's a curious and late moment
when my mind's filter has quit
passing thoughts through.
they're getting dammed up
somewhere, in some state
where they dissipate like
puddles in summer sun before
they can flood across my
consciousness. rather, feelings
seep through the cracks, lost
lonely little trickles without
the attached thought to
explain their provenance.
in a constant flow, there
was no stopping them from
spreading into my body,
my day and my walk home.
which do i prefer, to be unable
to stop thinking, or to have
a mysterious ocean fill my soul?
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