The ceiling and the pair of eyes have bonded greatly. Though it is disputed whether the ceiling can see. The eyes have indeed become very familiar with the physical appearance of the ceiling. They know each uneven bump, and offwhite worble.
Their acquaintance has greatened in these last days. One cannot know how this relationship shall proceed.
Fingers trace dents and marks.
Eyes are open, but look somewhere closed.
Deep breath. Chattering is
a bug near the ear.
Lungs fill like velvet canteens.
Hinges and their muscles are plush.
Giggles and rustling are metal to metal.
At that moment
He has no wisdom,
And he has the wrong smart.
One lingers on thought, maybe deliberately, maybe not.
But, it is coded in human nature to give many things more than one glance.
Attempts may be to add these second, third or more to moments or concepts in weaves of positivity. Though, I suppose thought is not always glowing in sunbeams.
Constructed to analyse and make our judgment of corrections, we are left in loops.
I dare say, the concept of having something stuck in your head for constant analysis is often shrouded in an assumption of negativity. But, I dare say, that isn’t always true.
Many of my brightest thoughts were made in a moment where the mind seemed stuck in an endless spiral.
Though not always possible, I attempt to powder my loops in some constructive thought, or something filled with something to make me smile, whether at my own folly, or positivity.
paroxysmal harlequin 