At this very moment my mind is full of superficial moments gathered across days of complacency and unwanted aggravations that have detoured me from any useful objective.

In this minute I'm missing a focus point. Rummaging in and around displays of endless ideas without anything touching my attention level that lies beyond mere surface objects where the physical world around me is based on speculation and advertising where I plunder but find no real substance for my life, only smoke filled visions of forsaken truth.

As of this moment I'm looking for something to invoke a love with for the moment. Something that invites me to an adventure to discover the nuances of its existence where my understanding is engrossed in absorbing the totality of its every plausible purpose and happenstance. Opening a door to one thought then another then another and another until I am well on my way along the paths of thinking mine own. Where I started with something as small as a glimpse that lead me to where I have established a welcoming environment of understanding that involves only the way I desire my thoughts to be.

At this particular time I understand others by knowing no one would understand me anyway. Why I think this way, why I crave such moments of thoughtfulness, why I feel detached from reality and their ethos of non stop rhetoric because I am unable to relate to their plotted plight lines, their relationship requirements, their commercialized constructs of only obey. No thought needed, no responsibility required by them, just me. While their reasoning is lost on my rationality; and my rationality, god love it that's why it was made, throws in the towel at their constant bickering knowing good and well that there's no good in it. Or otherwise it would be rational and seeking to make better not worse.

Even as I sit to sort my own thoughts I am being continually interrupted by things of no concern to me while society hustles another idea into existence where it remains only what it is until it is pursued and pressurized. Someone else's opinion set to weave or deceive or both, the thinking of others, thus eliminating individual thought and establishing their own repetitions for their own purposes to which I am not included.

This is me now, knowing that I have an innumerable amount of thoughts waiting to be conjoined in endless paragraphs of these are only my thoughts. Not meant for anyone, not meant to say anything, only my thoughts as they reveal themselves in moments of repose where the must think is eliminated and the notions of thinking freely flow happily in the streams of uninterpreted, unobstructed, wording that fills my days with welcoming lines of communicative expressions unbound by the limitations of realities outside of their being.

And now here I am, also at a loss of words to relate to the mediatic mayhems and way fares of the world which moves on in its vibrancy always in need of others attention. Hosted by billions adoring its glamorized purposing and endless mirage of living to which I am not partnered with inside my thinking. Enclosed in a worded haven of these are my thoughts, so unlike the outside world, yet relate to only when I stop my own interest and search for something to relate them to.

In this minute I know my willingness to want is lost to the world, because it is never sated by the material atmospheres of the natural world around it due to its indifference to my own thoughts. Because it's built on preconceived notions of others thinking then herded with the massed categories to be this, that, those or the other; and when it isn't then it is rejected and categorized into disposals in order for it to be improperly compartmentalized and forgotten. Shoved into an attic out of sight, out of mind, so the difference it made to a living life is lost to humanity.

Now in the next thought, I'm looking at a face wondering what to do next as I imbibe its contours and introduction into my thinking while I wish for it to be welcomed so that I may reason with it in my thoughts as the moments of my mind join in unison with all others gathered from the days of my living. To consider it in the spectrum of colorful delights that fill my days and nights as it travels through the timing of exploring life in the myriad of possibilities it can in no other wise reach except through by thought.

What to do now? The demands of others of my time have came to completion, their need of my thinking satisfied, their want of my usefulness finished. So what to do? When they stop and my mind, that has spent its many days in the constant tranquility of being unspoken, has need of itself to fulfill its own purpose in existence, oh what to do? I'd rather for my thoughts to have precedent over my thinking than those who interrupt them with their nuisance that only perfectly define themselves.

I visualize my mind like a picture frame waiting for a visual aid to bring its purpose into fruition knowing its created purpose wasn't for all but for some place, some space, face or faces to fill its outline with life lived moments giving the frame an accomplished purpose.

Then in the same manner of the stopping they start. The aggravation no mortal should ever have to endure returns and all the considering of the things that could be thought are being dismissed. All of the reasons there are to examine one's own life and mind one's own business are being destroyed, all the time there is to be thoughtful are being forgotten and the systematic introduction of ludicrous seconds of skip, pause, skip are being established. And in that very moment I realize, I'd much rather wrap my arms around my own thoughts that encourage my mind to remain the amazing collection of faces and places it has considered than the cyclone of nothingness others wished it would be.