Some days I have the mind
Of a flat earther.
Some days my mind,
Scrabbles over the skeletal remains
Of thought.
It rummages in the valleys
Of the now,
Forgetting Mountains of
Past lessons.
I don't stare at the horizon
And ask myself
"Why can't I stare on forever?"
Atrophying a little
In my own sauce,
Stewing blissfully,
In my own primordial ignorance.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoesiaWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch
