My thoughts are in knots,
I can't seem to place them.
My train of thoughts seem
To miss me in all stations.
A vessel with thoughts,
vile and otherwise filled to the rim,
I cannot place the new, the old, and the significant.
A concoction of parallel lives and thoughts strangely intersecting.
An unwinding in space and time,
I seem to forget the origin of these thoughts.
An endless stream of threads, crowded with knots, they bar me, tighter and tighter, with no room to breathe.
Must loosen without being lost, must not forget me knots.
