Fluid thoughts.

A neurologist told me that I had abnormally chaotic brain activity even during  five minutes of lying down, connected to a machine that was supposed to map brain waves. I have no idea how that machine would tell him my the constant slurry of thoughts that took me from one state of mind to another in perhaps milliseconds? 

And that is the reason why my blog is called seamless. Thoughts and stories converge and interminge from one imaginary scene to the next in alarming speed. I can be roaming the streets of a post apocalyptic town one moment and the very next moment I could be crying over my own death.
Thoughts like a fluid coagulate into a matter and keep bombarding my mind with what ifs and what not until I fall asleep.

And then, I conveniently dream 

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Forlorn

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You are a devil forlorn:
The surreal stream of my consciousness
Morbid and morose you rise,
Even when it is bright outside.
And I imagine meteor showers as I walk to work.

And for a reason unfathomable,
My feet are at your command,
With roots that perlocate the ground,
When rain falls like a thundershower.

Yet inseparable as we are,
You make me wonder,
What it is like,
To drown,
To burn,
To suffocate,
To be crushed under the weight of bridges that collapse,
When I’d rather shut my mind to thoughts.

And yet you make me meet death,
Time and again.
And see this world in an afterlife:
Tears in my eyes before I go to sleep.

No I don’t want to die.
I have watched myself from the other side,
Again.
And again.
And again.

But you’ve told me countless stories too;
Where I have saved lives,
And where I have discovered magic amongst the clouds.
And who can I credit,
For the fact that I really can,
And I have said this before:
That I really can tell where the nails in someone’s shoe hurts the most.

How I detest you sometimes,
Fickle imagination,
For showing me horrors that only exist in nightmares,
When I am wide awake.
But you have let me know,
That the solitary reaper might be singing,
Somewhere,
When he watches me intently,
As I sing my song.

You make my words come alive,
On paper like castles of sand:
Fleeting.
You, momentary as you are,
Make me the person I know I can be,
And oh,
How I love you for that!