You Think Just So

I don't usually preface any of my poems, but I thought I might say a small word about this one. That word is: Ambien. I sometimes write after the Ambien has kicked in. This is the weird kind of stuff that popped out the other night.
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Sometimes it is magical to be suspended in someone’s mind
like a cobweb forgotten in the dusting,
still taking notes on the day to day.

Day 26: “She still sets her glass on the edge of the sink
I think she hopes it will fall and shatter, the pieces
Some mess of an abstract artists brush
Insinuating that a thought went into the destruction.”

But really, the more authentic tale
is that their minds are just tangles and warring traumas
fighting for release and shockingly absent of any documentation.
No numbering systems for the blind behaviors which, after awhile,
are tedious and dull.

Shall I tell them, “You are free! You are free!
No longer required to brush your hair just so,
or react just so,
or think just so.

"The whole world of thought and connection await you!
Whatever colors you want may go together,
there is no one here who
will tell you different."

Most minds are these tangles.
But some, these ones I live for,
are great symphonies of light energy and flow -
passages of thought as beautiful as wild African sunsets,
endangered just so, too.

There are elegant strings of light
that move thought and emotion and body all at once.

But we cannot stay for long in these places,
they are only for the wild wild owner to wield.