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Derailed, discombobulated
hamster wheel for a brain,
drives my treasonous
that run-amok freight train.

Incessant, the thoughts
constant and circular
brain matter
fuse lit by vernacular.

Disillusioned, with Life
and other L words,
I question
is flying high for the birds?

Wakeful, I fret
over this, about that,
rue and
engaging with gnats.

Diminished, extinguished?
the yearnings and flames,
all stealth and sneak
stakes a new claim.

Vehement, (m)utterings
implore a but smouldering fire,
(re)torch that heart
get back up on your pyre!

~MyLa: unfettered and spinning, yarns…
(01, 2016)

… t’was a most fitful night… brain ran in circles, how fitting the photo I snapped accidentally on my beloved trail yesterday… and as I coined another fretful ditty, this thought slapped me upside the head: the point is, nothing in my life, ever, has occurred in any sort of logical order, but particularly not in any sort of expected, culturally appropriate, or accepted order or manner. So how could I possibly write about any of it that way? And KaPow, with a random meme about the next 365 days, and a most productive night of wakefulness, the Year of Fly, and the next great thing, is born in the never ending purgastory, that is my 24-7 brain. Stick around and help me feed this baby, give this dragon, (unicorn?) wings. Or don’t. The next level of Unfiltered is coming, either way.