PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This mind keeps on going,
Just Racing,
Almost dizzying...
Of thoughts drenched in downpours of emotions,
It's an ocean;
Of emotions trapped in the steel-cages of logic,
It's boxed in:
Of logic transformed by sensations,
Each moment,
Then molded in strange ways of perceptions,
Which loosen, 
Which in turn, 
Gives birth to the thought's fetus.
The self, I.D., and the ego,
And it feeds us.
Among reasons,
Of which, I don't know for sure at this instant,
Just that the words start, and then they stop,
Almost afraid of,
Of progression,
From a journey... so muddy to a destination,
A destination of scene-scape, fulfilled visions.
But it isn't.
It feels distant...
Not the lack of motive, space, or even content...
For as long as time allows, the three are constants,
So that's non-sense.
By-products of my conscious,
In the bunches,
Just presumptuous,
My assumptions...
What it is though, it's the walls, that for years, have been built up,
The walls of reluctance, suspicions, and of distrust.
Metaphors made mass-murders, my messages' meanings,
Or was I the Main-Man, masked melanoma, most malignant,
More magnificent?