the sun throws strange shapeshifting shadows across a white wall. they dance to the hum of traffic. quiet time. the mind is not quiet. the mind is a fairground. a fairground distraction. thoughts and memories spin, like a big wheel of disjointed thoughts, round and up to a dizzying height; the urgency of emotions make the belly lurch, like a rollercoaster of emotional spin, alternating currents of momentary weightlessness and serious gravity.
the mind is lost.
the body, tight, an over-wound spring.
the mind, a sidewinder, coiled and primed.
step back, for it will attack.
(c) Kat McDonald 2015