.

a million and one things swirling around in my brain
all fighting for the small amount of space
to occupy my every thought
to determine my every move.
swirling and moving
pulsating and vibrating, each wave of a memory, a thought, an undecided action.
all fighting for the little space left,
picture: the hustle and bustle of the city during a winter afternoon
streets are alive, breathing and moving with footsteps from a thousand shoes
trying to sort it out would be nearly impossible,
I'd write a novels worth of words that don't make sense,
meaningless words in a jumble, fighting, moving to create a sentence,
to develop meaning.
I'm not quite sure how it happens in the movies, the novels,
I'm not so certain.
take these million and one things
and throw them into the street.
allow them to move and beat with the feet on the street.
how can these sentence fragments, words, pings and sounds
weld together as well as fire to metal
to make a plausible, interpretable sentence?
your distant sounds, those far-away places, and unimaginable smells
all beat and pulsate in my brain,
almost like they're alive
but there isn't any room.