Thoughts
dangling on
loose strings
lighting a tangled
web of dynamite
threads snaking up
a mountain of rocky
ideas quaking into a
heap of chaos igniting
firing a forest of trees and
rocks and loose dirt rubbing
mixing with each other producing
so much heat and steam and vaporizing
everything else around it the whole heap
in flames rumbling consummating culminating
into a cataclysmic tipping point of inevitable collapse
a downpour of madness an avalanche of thoughts transposed
into so much ink so much paint so much musical notes and chemicals
and mathematical solutions crashing and toppling on top of each other all interconnected and tightly wedged in between to assemble a jigsaw masterpiece of feverish and unstoppable music and art and sculpture and literature and poetry and monsters and atomic bombs and the mother theory of all theories combined until the rumbling stops the pen is out of spills the paper out of space the buckets out of paint the violin breaks its strings Frankenstein's monster rises from the dead chemicals turn into mushroom clouds numbers and equations burst into The Big Bang everything in pinpoints of blinding light and ashes and smoldering dark matter only then you sink into your seat your head a blank whitewashed silence of complete and total nothingness. There is balance.

Random blah.

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