If I have thoughts
It's not thinking of me
If I have any issues, any at all
They are as unreal as reality tends to be
Hope is such a fuzzy spot
Funny blurry moving smear
On a stream of wet fear
Where thoughts are lost
If all my mind does is look
It doesn't always know where
Or how, or what it even means to look
Often a hollow inward stare
All the stray clouds of joy
Are always light and float away
It's the deep dark ominous wet
That hold their sway
The weather inside is as real
As anything anyone can find
Except it's hidden behind the eyes
Of this counterfeit blind
A person with dull faculties
Details endure, because they are still
When you see them clearer
They often sharpen screaming shrill
I just want to think my mind to numb
To wade through the spin of lies they've spun
Until I run out of reason and logic
Exhausted thoughts outrun
