I was reminded of my nostalgic thoughts.
Meshed summaries they were.
Jhene Aiko’s lyrics, Wading, in the background.
I prefer my thoughts left cold,
But instead they scald me.
My thoughts are entangled, they hurdle over this twisted brain of mine.
They leave me eager, prisoner.
I am solid, but they are forced on me like plaid on a kilt.
I wish I could run to the nearest harbor in my soul, I can’t.
With regrets of leaving thoughts in a heap on my brain
I’ve managed to recollect them, my control in a weighted tome.
March 6, 2016