Every wrinkle of the brain
seems to be filled
with a line of thought
be it an idea
a memory
a fear
a desire
a fact
I travel along each crack
picking up this
but get distracted by that
It's hard to keep track.
I don't know what I'm loosing
because I'm too busy
finding.
Not noticing feet along the pavement
Nor the daffodils at the side
until they come in to focus
when your abruptly awoken
by the honk of a horn.
A smile stuck on the face
not thinking of passers by
just the scene in your head
replaying
rewinding
tweaking the details
until it's just right,
just what you want.
The smile grows larger
the scenery fades
and once again
you forget the world you're in
and become lost
in your own.
