The marathon of thought
whispering hands
Posts: 13,527
Thoughts!! On your marks... Set.. Go!! And with a bang the manic begins......
Watch them, like lucid living things,
Clamoring over one another through my brain..
Zigging and zagging through the pattern sets.
Which will be "The One"? Which will survive ?
It starts out simple enough, one zillion thoughts..
Fighting for mulling rights.. Desiring my full attention.
Then unlike any marathon run before.. Comes the twist.
Moods jump in, and thoughts begin to clique.. Forming ranks.
Now it is a rare thing to see a war with so many sides!
Imagine the din in my head! The roars of battle cries.
They echo in my brain, and like warriors they fight on.
Slowly thoughts are thinned out; starved, wounded, die..
The survivors feed upon the fallen, gaining strength.
Cliques reform, and take on new foundations, some evil.
Grotesque in their power, some become distorted..
These are the ones that should have died first.. Shivers.
The marathon has ceased to be anything but a battle,
That soon will become a hunt.. A blood sport of thought.
Like some evil twisted game, it grows.. It's deafening .
I can't and no longer want to hear myself think!
Sleep, I want to sleep.. I want my brain to shut up.
Instead, I can hear them now, evil wicked thoughts.
They Breathe like mad panting beasts, seeking my focus.
Howling and screaming, demented and grotesque, they grow.
Soon, there will be but a few, and when sleep comes?? Shudder.
For they'll rule the halls of my dreams too. Wicked memories...
Ceaselessly driving forward in their sinister path to destruction.
I shake my head, but they cling steady, laughing.. Sleep child..
I close my eyes, and pray I may hide.. But then they come..
They hurt my head, tears form, but never fall, they can't win!
But they always do.. They know this and grow again.. Beasts!
I run and stumble, and soon they are upon me, devouring the soul.
I can still hear the echos of the thoughts that remain, as I awake.
They want to destroy me, from the inside out, no more sleep!
I fear to fall asleep, they taunt me, and cry for my return..
Pages and pages, books filled with scribblings of evil thoughts.
The winner arises, wicked to the core. This will remain til it dies.
The death of the surviving thought can take weeks, years. Fear.
For what if the others know? What if they discover this thought?
What if the wickedness inside gets out?? So I hide. Isolation rules.
The marathon is over.. The remnants and pieces of me strewn about.
The victor has claimed its rightful place in my brain..done.
I must now exhaust every angle if this thought.. Nothing else can be.
Starve this fucker out, dry it up.. Then maybe, I pray, I may sleep.
Watch them, like lucid living things,
Clamoring over one another through my brain..
Zigging and zagging through the pattern sets.
Which will be "The One"? Which will survive ?
It starts out simple enough, one zillion thoughts..
Fighting for mulling rights.. Desiring my full attention.
Then unlike any marathon run before.. Comes the twist.
Moods jump in, and thoughts begin to clique.. Forming ranks.
Now it is a rare thing to see a war with so many sides!
Imagine the din in my head! The roars of battle cries.
They echo in my brain, and like warriors they fight on.
Slowly thoughts are thinned out; starved, wounded, die..
The survivors feed upon the fallen, gaining strength.
Cliques reform, and take on new foundations, some evil.
Grotesque in their power, some become distorted..
These are the ones that should have died first.. Shivers.
The marathon has ceased to be anything but a battle,
That soon will become a hunt.. A blood sport of thought.
Like some evil twisted game, it grows.. It's deafening .
I can't and no longer want to hear myself think!
Sleep, I want to sleep.. I want my brain to shut up.
Instead, I can hear them now, evil wicked thoughts.
They Breathe like mad panting beasts, seeking my focus.
Howling and screaming, demented and grotesque, they grow.
Soon, there will be but a few, and when sleep comes?? Shudder.
For they'll rule the halls of my dreams too. Wicked memories...
Ceaselessly driving forward in their sinister path to destruction.
I shake my head, but they cling steady, laughing.. Sleep child..
I close my eyes, and pray I may hide.. But then they come..
They hurt my head, tears form, but never fall, they can't win!
But they always do.. They know this and grow again.. Beasts!
I run and stumble, and soon they are upon me, devouring the soul.
I can still hear the echos of the thoughts that remain, as I awake.
They want to destroy me, from the inside out, no more sleep!
I fear to fall asleep, they taunt me, and cry for my return..
Pages and pages, books filled with scribblings of evil thoughts.
The winner arises, wicked to the core. This will remain til it dies.
The death of the surviving thought can take weeks, years. Fear.
For what if the others know? What if they discover this thought?
What if the wickedness inside gets out?? So I hide. Isolation rules.
The marathon is over.. The remnants and pieces of me strewn about.
The victor has claimed its rightful place in my brain..done.
I must now exhaust every angle if this thought.. Nothing else can be.
Starve this fucker out, dry it up.. Then maybe, I pray, I may sleep.
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