Attics

Hello everyone

I was desperate to do a new post. I feel it's been a while. I started producing this seemingly random strong of thought and thought wow...this is odd. So l decided naturally to post it :-p

Moreover though read the last bit and return and try to understand what this represents the central metaphor is te sense of a rumble weed collecting dust picking up stray thoughts in your mind and clumping them all together as quite literally rolling with them! This is what I imagine inside my mind looks like sometimes rather dusty? What do you think?

Anyway without further adieu this is Attics.

ATTICS

Ever feel like a parasite
Multiply that feeling
You might know
How thoughts can bleed

A story ends and
Then begins
Endings are the top
Of the circle
And the circle is a train

I felt like air
I was falling
Floating at the same time
So free and disconnected
Blowing about everything
Content with invisibility
And Anonymity

Stars are stuck into
The sky
Stars are stuck by
God and no one understands
Why they burn
When they stop
Why they don't find a way to
Keep fighting

What turns a shining light into
A pitt of burning darkness
What fury shakes atoms to explode

Dust stings the air
Been there
Been here
Not long enough
To see clear

We keep attics
And they are full of tumble weeds
Who knows what they'll collect
Who knows what strange mish mash
Will collate in the dusty recesses
Of ourselves