Thought Loops

My brain is a bird

building a nest 

Gathering up imagination like twigs

Building memories 

    out of make believe

Weaving itself in promiscuous circles

I try

     to stop it. 

"There are no eggs yet

There is no sense in building this

     now,

          or here."

It feels like talking to a bird.

   My voice, a fleeting distraction,

A far off whisper in the trees. 

I try

     to slow it down. 

I take away its imagination, 

its make believe,

I focus on what's next.

This nest is ready for no one. 

It will be this way for a while.