A mask, A curtain, a veil
one that seems to hold boredom in it
features that may convey anger, seriousness even severeness
Silence in the place of words or any other sound
But the mind races, then again it doesn't
It falls silent, perhaps asleep

Now I will write only because my fingers movie across the keyboard
Only because the music I started to play on Pandora actually woke me up
Now where to begin, where to end
Only when I thought of it can I be sure
But how can I begin when my fingers can only put words down slower than a mind can race
How dare I think that these nubs with nerves moving about this board could keep up

When the mind races only it can keep up with itself, if it is lucky
Alone consciousness is aware of what's going on
But it's background noise we never bother to notice
Why be burdened by it's eternal calm when you have millions of thoughts flashing in, and out of your mind
Come on go along
We have languages to learn, books to read
Classics to dive into, pamphlets from Marx because his ideas were never taught in school
The words of an ancient man whose existence is doubted to analyze
You have dead languages to master simply because you'd like to read these words long forgotten by most
To read the philosophy of others from a time in the past
Those thought to be geniuses, those who were known for taking psychedelics but got to see what most would be terrified of

OH but this mind continues to race
It will continue 'til I stop it and sweep away all it's contents
Leave them when they originated, the past
Then I sit half lotus, lotus at best, empty
No thoughts, if and when one arises
You watch and it will sink back into where it came from
Observing so as to not find myself neck deep in icky thoughts
Then realizing it happened once again
Then nothing again.