I have an obsessive knack
Of precise cognitive movement
That results in a new order
Of familiar, persistent,
Connections
I feel the overpowering urge
To grovel before the whims
And desultory twitching
Of my minds conjectures
That I could never seem to bridle
Nor suppress
I’ll crouch down in hiding
Knowing fully how tortuously
Difficult it is to delude
My inner eye
To turn my bare thoughts
From recession
Can I wring the wisps
Of faltering awareness
Into a string of sensible
Paths to follow continually
With no deviations of sanity
With no lapses in lucid
Ruminations
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Edwin