Broken Thoughts

They come to me

Incomplete

Phrase by phrase

Slower

Overcoming the invisible speed-bumps

That I may have created

 

They come to me

In random speeds

Incomprehensible to others

Parts of me

I don’t know which is better−

The slower ones or the faster?

Any which way,

They remain in disproportion

To the speed of my chatter

 

They come to me

Without rhythm

Intelligent sparks

Seem like fluke

The few possibles

Among all permutations and combinations

 

I pick the scattered pieces

They drop again somehow

I can see myself in all those bits

I try to imagine myself whole

Uninterrupted.

I like it, I am proud.

 

But what’s the use?

Of good things being trapped in your head

For no one to see,

And to enjoy as much or even more

What is the cure?

Where will I find the glue?

Stick them together

Help the picture form through

 

The clusters, the chaos

These broken thoughts

They come to me

Hesitating.

But they come to me

 

Broken thoughts

Like building a bridge from imagination to reality

Like stepping stones in tempestuous waters

Broken thoughts

Trying to keep a brave face

In my mind’s vacuum

In my mind’s storm

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