Pillar of Sand and Salt

I can take no more

Of the wretched

Scratching droning

That infiltrates my pounding head

I despise the incessant sound of chirping

Entitled and presumptive

A madly twirling bird

Only pausing for breath or

Direction at sentence end

The same endless discussion

Only one topic available

For consideration

No swapping or bending

My avenues of thought

No tributary conversation

Only a river of speech

Washing personal thoughts

Away to the realm of

Tangled captivity

Skeletal fingers trap and submerge

Forever in a sinking morass

Shifting conceptual silt forms a delta

Technically, a collection of

Individual entities

Every blossoming idea

Crushed and ground down

Moldable but inseparable

A temperamental medium

Building up the shape of me

A yellow rain slicker slung

Round the sloping humps

That might illicit thoughts

Of shoulders

Atop it sits a melting sphere

Supposedly my cranium

Now, sliding down my chest

Wind and sun deflected

Off misshapen shiny plastic

Still, I continue evanescing into

The tide from whence I came

It takes effort, access to reality

To hold together every grain

With one empowering wail

I reform, recalling every instant to my mind

Blazing, the burning sun's reflection

Bounces with every question

Off the shifting surface

My soft eternal hide, rippling

A despairing eruption of heat

From my charred and weary soul

Blasts the tiny crystals

A kiln of tempestuous fervor

Each crystalized consequence

Loosely composing my constantly morphing form

Flashes of the past

Stripped of mood lighting and their gun

Instigate a realignment

Melting instantly, atoms ooze and reconnect

Vitrified, to hard, gleaming glass

K.B. Silver