Thoughts of mixed mash

This day of thinking fast

Why, where; now and near

Hear the sound my mind fears

The quick fix

Playing

Not Untouched

The spider weaves its web the same

Whether in peaceful country or confused city

Oblivious to the speedy sounds

I feel the need to puke out this ethereal garbage

In the early morning

twilight

Face to foam, eyes glazed.

Let it die. 

Connected
Each thought escapes comprehension until the next one comes along

What exactly do I hope to get from this?

I feel

One spark of light shines in the dark;

The brotherhood of man

I wonder how to leave my mark

Or even if I can

In the mirror I