Bubbling, like the sweet taste of bubble gum and the way it blows up like a balloon. Words, thoughts run across the brain and ink drops form words. Imagination runs wild, running away from the nets that try to catch it, cage it and study it. Its like the animaniacs driving the brain wild, those that cant understand they break under the strain and the psychiatist couch they fill trying to understand the meaning of life, and why they are depressed and why are all these people talking in their heads. I listen to the voices in my head. The ghosts of past, present and future. The voice of experience says not to tread that path again. We got burnt there. The voice of character talks to me now. Let go of the past and build for the future. What you want for tomorrow must be established today. The voice of promise speaks of tomorrow and shows brief snapshots of tomorrow and where I may be. Yet I stand wobbling on today, torn between my past; its mistakes, successes and their consequences, my present; its uncertainities and opportunities, and the future; with its twisted paths and kaleidoscopes of hope or despair. The voices in my head call, should I listen or ignore?
