The crouching Tiger in my brain playfully swats away all thoughts of substance….
Leaving only the thin trails of vapory dream like thoughts…..
Battered images of surreal creatures….
Plans of conquest that make no sense…..
A moment of joy that is steeped in sadness…
Quickly melt away in a menagerie of clowns and devils….
Each thudding footstep coupled with the calliopes tune…
Set of clouds of bomb like fragments inside my skull….
And that tiger just bats the solid figures away….
Like a cook stirring the lumps from the porridge….
Only the wispy images of ether seem solid…
Everything else is obliterated….
Only the thinnest mist holds me here….
anything else would set me loose…
The tiger bats away the notions of true escape….
Pouncing upon any feeling of self control….
He dances like a kitten with a ball of yarn…
Batting my memories around inside…..
I cling to the mist….
Between swipes of his massive paws….
I cling to the mist…..
