Windowsills of madness line my mind.
The never-ending spiral of thoughts.
They swim down towards the bottom
of the ocean, swim among the fish and corals.
They do not rest, and nor do I.
The windowsills guide me to a place of
careless thinking.
Clandestine contemplations have no place here.
The bluebirds sing and the sun shines
through my every pore,
glistening unabashedly.
The grass will grow, the moon will
gleam and break the night,
and the world will never stop.
Not for me, not for you.
We will never get through the window
of calm, of tranquility.
The windowsills will stay,
a barrier between us and the real world.
Our world is better, and we will
live within our thoughts in breathlessness,
as we spiral down to the bottom of the ocean,
to swim with the fish and live with our dreams.