doing being

I kill with visuals,

bury with talk,

walk away in silence.

this is what a mind does,

over and over. 

in the shoreline of thought

it's hard to drown oneself,

but not an invitation to swim either.

the liquid noise of thinking,

made prominent, 

is in name only.

I am only memory with my feet in,

otherwise I could blandly walk, 

ankle deep into the fade,

down the beach of further expectations.

but I do unexpectedly wonder,

how that all happens.

not sure for myself,

but those interruptions

are duly appreciated in passing.

you'd think this aloneness

is killing me,

but it's not.

I watch it go on,

as if as entertainment.

doing being human consciousness

is just both hilarious and ridiculous.

yes, both at the same time . . .