My mind

As I lay here thinking about what I wish to pen my mind clutters and fills with sorrow. Un clear of what it is my mind is trying to tell me. Thoughts of sadness, pain, and wondering fill my head with chaos. unknowing to that what I really feel it is this that strikes me down, pins me, constricts me, and forces me to remember the past to witch cold and unknowing to worth while emotions. It is with this heavy burden disables me to write what I desire. To what end must I go to rid my mind and heart of this fowl stench of past hauntings. Not my life I must say, for I might carry it with me to the after life. For that is extreme, my time will come of that I am certain.

What is it that taints my thought to prevent me from expressing that what I desire most? I sit and ponder a lot in my day as I go on about my business. Putting on a show for the public so that the plethora of questions do not disturb my work. What is it I seek? What do I desire? Just more questions to decide on, as if I don't have enough to think about as it is. Perhaps it is the fact that pain and chaos is essayist to expose and paint; or the never ending question that we all seek. Who am I? Lost in translation I swim through swift rivers of my mind, searching for that thorn.

I cannot sleep for the thoughts will still be there chacing me upon my awaking. If I drink then the thoughts penetrate further in to my existence. How much of this can a human take? What do I tell the ones that I love, for dodging the truth is a path no man shall take. So alone, I stand on the cliff staring down in to the black abys that is to be my unknowing future. Dare I cry for help? I think not for the notice of my state will only bring questions from a person I don't know. With a piece of paper on the wall that says that they can fix it all.

My mind is in a battle, but with what? My heart? Or perhaps it is battling it's self. Time. Time is what I need. For time is the creation of all things, the healing of all things, and the end of all things. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Dammit; why must it move so slow?