So it begins with a description,
a description of a process
in which the progress of a thought
is arrested by another thought,
a bigger thought, a thought
with might enough to dominate the mind.
How often have I come to find myself
defining things in terms of force?
The river’s course is interrupted
by a dam built from concrete
and terrible memories.
My stammering propels me
headfirst into a trance.
I must admit, I can advance no further;
the furthest reaches of this realm
are slowly coming undone,
unraveling in wisps of smoke.
The image that I have is broken.
The words I seek remain unspoken.
As a token of my twisted tongue,
I offer this awkward silence.
Fill it with whatever violence suits your fancy.