I feel a funeral in my brain Of thought, treading through and through until a hole burns. Fibers, breaking from the heat of exponentially increasing friction. This brain lights fires. My steady stream of consciousness… This fire-lighting river. Who knew it’s everlastingly increasing velocity could be a safety hazard? This path was one that I took often. The path of my mind. Worn down by ideas, swimming in fast, fading precision. Try to stay sharp. The directed, rigid, gravity of my ideas, like a cigar store Indian dressed decidedly in patchy overalls, begins to fade. I need to fight it. Try.