I sit there fiddling my thumbs, fidgeting on a cushion of needles trying to let out the colossal hoard of thoughts and worries that I’ve kept inside like a ship in a bottle. Wading through the perilous, meandering stretch crossing floods of memories through muddy relations on derailed trains of thoughts. Over the walls I’ve built.
In this room, what’s said and heard, however much I let go, is as much as this room keeps with the two people here. This is a safe, a room that serves as just a bigger confine of my mind.
Day Three Prompt: enge you to write a surreal prose poem.
Therapy really does help a lot. Although it seems unblocking the dam of my thoughts is just as unrelenting as an actual dam. I’ve been high on freeing my mind. It helps a lot that it’s as private as my own mind.
Flipped Serendipity 