is a bit similar to an
interior monologue
that is more of a
psychological test
in which the interior
of your skull is wall
papered with Ror
schach inkblots that
are decorative and
otherwise perfectly
impractical. except
if you could see how
lovely it is in here.
as i stare at these
beautiful abstract
designs draped
along the walls
of my interior,
i find that the
splotches, rather
than pull the un
developed ramb
ling ditherings
about in my
head not to
ward a notion
of what might
really be going
on within the
depths of my
mind, but instead
keep things open,
distracted from the
less abstract goings-
on that can diminish
or relinquish my focus
from where it needs to
be in order to get me
from where i am in
this droll exterior
world in which i float
about to wherever
it is that i am per
haps attempting
or wanting or
needing to be.
but then the prob
lem becomes rem
embering where that
is or might be, or
even hold a hint
about a general
direction. currently
i’m looking up,
at a supposed
ceiling, for any bit
of light that might
emit as if toward
me from those
heights. the
feeling this gives
is that of a man
trapped in a se
wer desperately
looking for a man
hole cover, anything
such from which i
might escape these
hellish depths. what
lovely wallpaper! it
keeps me on my toes
and has me going
places no one,
not even i, might
possibly know.
