Confusion Disassembled

July 12, 2018

In a mind with no terrain

A way forward is deemed impossible

Instead a cloud looms, attempting shape

Stirring itself indefinitely

As if constant flux will produce its form

Its stagnant slosh makes me nauseous

So, pained, puzzled, and with nothing else to do,

I throw my brain onto paper

Forced through a medium

My thoughts slow and structure

And with a partial perspective scribed

My neurons unweave

The decompression of my being

And a new circulatory bounce

Reflect a confusion disassembled

Expunged by its permanence

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.