Today I mourn, I'm still not sure why, I grieve the loss of something that was never mine, simply because I never dared.

The mind,sometimes surprises with its capacity to hold a thought, obsess over it, be torn to bits by it…. overwhelmed by an almost narcotic dependency. Nagging thoughts impatiently waiting their turn, safely tucked in the only place I know is alone, almost freeing in its solitude…allowing me to peel off one layer after another with a crossed eyebrow as the only visible sign to prying eyes.

It doesn't take long for it to shadow my actions, my touch, my voice, sight, perception of sound…flippant in its oscillations between delusion and reality….

And soon enough, general existence is reduced to pitiful dissection by an overactive and underused mind.
It never really gathers full control of the vocal chords though; it makes me wonder if the reason is resilience or pride.

So, how many of mine will be dutifully vaulted six feet under and how many will be carelessly flung out in the nude in an unguarded nanosecond…

Until then, as I scrape my soul in the privacy of me, for you who sits across the table, I'm just scratching paper…just scratching paper…