THE THINKER

The Thinker never stops thinking
That's his job and that's his purpose
The only time he doesn't think about thinking is when he has to blink
Once an idea sprouts in his head it ricochets from one side to the other
Until it accumilates and his fingertips
And the thought takes over
He reads into situations too much
And that's his downfall
Catching a glimpse of a meerkat at the end of the hall
He moves his head to see if it's true
He tries to touch it but his hand passes through
Thinking so hard he starts to see visions
They may not be real and he doesn't know
All the thoughts are making collisions
And it starts raining clothes?
No idea where they came from
Or where they will go
But they're filling up the room in colourful piles of snow
He pinches himself but nothing happens
So he grabs a shirt and puts it on
Thinking about how badly he's tripping out
He lays his fatigues body on the bed
Staring at the ceiling with clothes falling on his head
He closes his eyes and thinks about falling asleep
But all the thoughts colliding won't let him sleep
And he begins to weep
Once the thinker wakes
He removes all the debris from his face
He sits up on his bed
And the thoughts start bouncing and colliding and adding and multiplying
But they never ceace, divide or subside
For the thinker is cursed with thinking until his brain is fried