i fancy my brain is a pangea
and the Tethys of my mind is alive-
not with electronic pulse signals and sterile science.
it bubbles with acetic.
it sputters with spite.
beware, friend.
i've hung a danger sign.
the north embankment is askew, i believe,
for it doesn't comfort me with pretty paisley dreams.
the Tethys escaped it's cold restraints
and flooded a fraction of this fiend.
oil and marine corpses
don't comfort me with pretty paisley dreams--
they are the source of the dis-ease of the mind
that leaks and pools together to create the dis-ease of the soul.
maybe that's why i'm such a flawed human being.
i wouldn't say the north is dysfunctional.
my dear, the predicament's quite contrary.
frigid is never meant to numb you.
it's just meant to chill you.
and scare you.
and ruin you.
till you are.no.more.than.your.own.adversary.
the south- it's just wishful thinking.
the south never existed.
some have less, others have more.
ne'er-do-wells don't mingle with fortunate whores.
the south is a souvenir of my ruination.
to this day.
to this day.
solitary confinement may be arbitrary.
but in matters of the mind-
i'd choose no better way to slowly kill myself.
i'm scared, aren't i?
don't tell a soul.
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YOU ARE READING
ESOTERIC PHILOSOPHIES
Poetry-thoughts in the form of little rivulets that part from the undulating river of my cryptic mind in a poetic jumble of words- ~ e s o t e r i c p h i l o s o p h i e s ~ ©Aneet, August 2015 lowercase intended
