Windy roads are the true method for
today and my attempt
to sort out,
what ever the heck this mess,
of feeling,
that permeates my soul and fingers on
Monday morn (basically week start),
no certainties.

There is that shouting again, inside
the head, the brain,
whatever your designation
for the noggin,
I am disassociating while falling
onto logs of thought, haphazard
in their storage, but
oh so powerful in their attempt,
to pull me under and lost.

The world is not today, no,
this is myself that I contend with,
that I am battling, a natural
state,
where I remember or conjure
a memory, then question, then
the analysis part
(can I just not?)
Are you satisfied with the result,
I am asking me,
with hands across face and wince
between fingers, dare I look?

What would I even see? In mindseye
you have blank canvasses and
no brushes or paint, an endless
sea of linen with new ones forming
each time you try to recall
the visual
of any thing in your life,
swimming with fabric
and drowning in the results.

Just keep going forward, do not
look back, though easy to say
and super hard to do,
it is the way,
of me,
it has to be, only forward,
because if I stop and take stock,
then it builds and builds and
builds inside,
that meltdown, that inevitable
explosion,
always tempered and trampled.

Just keep going. Just keep
going. Just keep going. Just
keep going. Just keep going.
Just keep going. Just keep
going. Just keep going. Just keep
going.
Just.
Keep.
Just.
Just. Keep. Keep. Keep. Keep.
Going.