the curse of linear thinking

the curse of linear thinking

is like the naiveté 

of straightforwardly reading a book.

there is the sequencing, 

word after word,

line after line, 

page after page,

then chapter after chapter.

the narrative, as eye-worthy, 

is audience guaranteed.

thought provoked is 

still one thought after the other.

living as the theatre of the conscious mind

seems to guarantee that audience perspective

from the conveyer belt of aware,

onto the surveillance of cognition's reward.

it's feels like wearing a paper bag 

over one's sensory range.

held in containment,

with one seemingly small hole

for sensory input to take affect.

but there are times to just stare at the book

and wonder.

not read, 

but grossly overwhelmingly wonder.

am I just peaking at existence?

I'm thinking life jacket

but I am floating in an ocean.

why are my senses so offhand cursory?

sometimes it feels logic is overdressed.

if only emotions had a true language of its own

and not pirated by mindfill's substitutionals.  

then read would have a dance floor

and not issues of coordination and tight shoes.

words would have mud-stain potential.

written lines would have rainfall,

pages, blankets and landscapes.

and chapters would have spiritual enterprise.

so did you ever think,

in the curse of linear thinking, 

to read a page, 

as a bowl of visuals, 

presenting as a deep draw 

of emotional spaghetti? . . .