lost in the murmur of a half-forgotten dream,
my brain floats in a vicious fog,
one i cannot discern the location of,
the reason for or the meaning behind.
i can't think straight.
focus is a fond memory, a state i fear
i will never enter again,
as i sit here in the clouds.
oh yes,
'she lives with her head in the clouds,'
they used to say, and now it is true.
and that rain which pours so heavily
comes now from tear ducts, not because
i am sad, but because i can't think,
and thinking is my solace.
and there are times when i am sharp,
invigorated, and i remember
what it is like to feel liberated in my thoughts,
simple as they often are, complex as they can be.
i know my head won't always be so light,
and maybe i should relish this time
when it is not so heavy,
but i do not.
for when i am like this i fear
i will never feel that rich focus
run through my veins again,
consuming me as it does,
or used to;
that depth and immersion and
that electricity,
sparking such a flow of inspiration,
a feeling of divine wisdom
and purpose in my soul and mind,
my brain filled with golden sunlight, soft and warm.
now my skull is full of air.
all that light is gone, and i am a shell.
i know that this fog will fade,
be it sooner or later,
just a side effect of anxious tendencies.
i know it will clear.
but still every time i have it
the only thing i can think is
'what if this never goes away
and i am trapped like this?'
