A restless mind cries out from behind the wrinkled and clenched brow of the weary man.

The slicing pain of headache stems up from his spine and between the hemispheres of his mind.

It seems to spread them like the red sea.

Shallow cuts on top of cuts making progress towards the center, like a dull knife cutting through meat.

A pillow covers his eyes.

He is motionless save for his feet.

His toes tangle and interlock, tapping out rhythms much more coveted than the silence of the night.

Past, present, future, missed connections and vast possibilities stir his mind and bring him to high peaks and dark valleys.

Restless hands write out their emotions.

Wound up tightly in a ball, but held onto.

Time or nessessity will lead this paper mound to a place amongst the rubbish.

It will vanish into the temples of worthlessness- just as the restless mind’s discomfort.

~Galwyn

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