Today I am not hungry, I am fed up.
I put on Philip Glass, but I don’t listen to his piano.
The strings playing in my thoughts are running emotions, uncontrolled.
What I feel sounds like a river, but it is also rain. And thunder.
I do not know what part of the water is flowing down a path, and what is coming from above.
Should it matter?
Should one separate what is born within and what is a reaction to my chaos?
Am I the trail or the cloud?
It flows through me.
It becomes me.
Then it vanishes.
