Here, before any words spoken,
I sit and analyze thought.
What will Thursday bring?
Thursday, will bring, whatever I induce.
January 13th, a day to design with intent.
Ideas swim, muses distract, intention must
Be the solid Victor.
Sleep brought cumbersome dreams
Of misplaced jewelry, hanging from threads
In places that dementia would only know.
The message here is dubious, lingering
Is there use in deciphering?
A single copper ornament, lost to its pair
A friend, recently stripped of all familial company
The cast in order of appearance was particular.
What philosophy is carefully placed in this setting?
Where my pillowed head floats in controlled chaos
Meaning, mulled into deep, wordless explanations,
That coast in agitating vibration,
Coaxing distraction enough,
To tickle and slip away.
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