Monomania

Monomania

Single loop never ending

Preoccupation

There are thoughts. Then there is a thought. Pulsing like the warmth of an infection just under the skin. Subcutaneous, until it bubbles up with its radiant, painful smile of pooled, festering blood. A heartbeat that is powerful, yet dying.

The drip of a leaking faucet to the deluge of shoreline destruction. The thought begins steady. I know it is here with its incessant drop. The beat coming in behind the introductory lull of orchestral strings. Mixed metaphors, singular idea.

The pitter-patter of child-like feet mature to the in-time and out-of-tune march of a thunderous formation – uniform in objective, too multitudinous to count. Breaking, out-of-step to cross the frontier bridge span into the forefront of consciousness.

The beach flooded, the sun clouded, offspring of all other thoughts drowned in the ferocity of one. Now I am singular – a glitch, a skip, a loop. Monomania preoccupies the feed. How does such a lovely idea birth such a dark thought?

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