A Passing Thought
I find myself unable to concentrate on anything in particular save the shapes, colors and shadows of the room. The time ticks by and while I understand that I could easily have finished this quite a few hours ago, I cannot focus. I seem to be lost swirling down a rabbit hole and into an abyss of unending shapes and colors much to the effect that a drug might have on the mind and yet knowing fully well at the same time that I am not truly moving at all. Images flash through my head and pierce the very depths of my core and lead me to places I have been and yet never have seen with my own eyes. I walk through the lands and fly all the same bouncing off of a mountain wisping through clouds and touching the stars. Though even at the end of it, I know I haven't left. Not left my seat even. Daydreams become reality and reality becomes a dream. Washed together like the colors of newly purchased articles of clothing spinning through the water of a washing machine. Feeling is but an image in the mind. A simple word that perhaps has no meaning other than the word it represents. To touch something is what? To actually feel it? Or to believe that you have felt it? Is reality something that you can touch or is it just another thought passing through your head at speeds too incredible to comprehend?