regions
of my mind
invaded
and so as it stands
he
is but a figment of
the
imagination
a
creative one of course
he
still sits among all the strangers
choosing
to know no one
and
commenting at length
about
the thoughts that
pound
the mind
like
a drum pounding
out
the rebelliousness of youth
everyone
needs to take the time
and
try to understand each other
how
else we avoid war
suddenly
crowded in the hazy
spot
he has chosen
it’s
a bit hard to stay afloat in the sea
of
smoke and babble
he
holds his breath
finding
time in the clock-less
universe
he somehow still
trapped
between layers
of
confusion
and
smoke
twisting
and turning
in
sleep and while awake
contorting
the thoughts
and
trying to make sense
out of all this noise…
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