Stream of Thought

Stream of Thought

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Today is an

Idle sort of day

Autumn-like-

Almost

The foliage upon the trees outside is

Somewhat bashful yet, although

It was the summer that

I have always adored

It was a day like this day, that

I was taken away.

 I am starting to remember now, that

During my favorite time of year- as

I am locked inside this tiny L-shaped room-

White walled and barren as I feel inside

Impassively staring out the window.

My thoughts are elsewhere-

Thinking back forty years, upon

The day I lost myself.

Screaming in terror and bewilderment on

The very day the world first fell out from under me-

I escaped to another place and time,

 Thunderclouds, black as the fear raging in my gut,

Dark and dismal as that night my world caved in.

Lost, alone and screaming with fright…

Disconnected wires in my brain,

Cotton filled and twisted out of form

It was last night I believe

They took me away and brought me to this place.

In spite of the deluge and the devil’s voices in my head

I wish I were outside dancing in the rain barefooted,

With my long auburn hair

Tossed about by the wind

Crying and laughing at the same time

At the absurdity of it all,

And if lightning were to strike me dead

It would be the demon’s voices that brought me to this place,

Running scared, screaming out in fear

As fiendish voices commanded me to die.

It is a sultry, idle sort of day

But just like any other day

Something happened that made me forget where the flowers grew.

Shock was induced to

Those disconnected wires in my brain

That set my soul afire

Screaming out in terror and in pain

A kind of pain that I never will forget,

As if a cinder block wall was erected between the world, and myself

Even if I were dancing in the rain barefooted,

My long auburn hair

Tossed about in the wind,

It would be in some other realm

That only I could see or hear-

And on an idle sort of day

But in some other space and time

Autumn like perhaps

Imprisoned between these concrete white walls and a Plexiglas window

There were so many things I do not recall, but I shall always remember

What a delight summer could be

And as I lie upon this hard blue mattress just thinking of myself

 Dancing in the rain

With the trees swaying in the wind on

The other side of that cinderblock wall,

 Where the foliage upon the trees

Was somewhat bashful yet, and

On this idle sort of day,

I might even remember

Where the flowers used to grow…

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Claudia Krizay

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