<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stream Of Consciousness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stream of consciousness</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thoughts that come at random<br>With no foresight and no plan<br>My fingers type at their own volition<br>With no structured idea at hand</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I live in an environment of inquietude <br>In an ambiance of unease and perhaps fear<br>There’s a weight upon my forehead<br>A sense of loss of things I hold dear</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Today’s a day much like any other<br>I read, I eat, yet feel so incomplete, <br> and blandly smiling at me in calm so replete<br>On my desk, photos of sisters and brother</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just to sit and compose idle randomness<br>At my desk, takes my mind away for a bit<br>Yet at the back of my mind sits emptyness<br> And knowing I cannot escape from it</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This bit of inane exposition<br>Is from my fingers and not of my mind<br>I try to stop all conscious thought <br>And let my fingers write blind</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My busy fingers put a name<br>To unconscious sentiments so sad<br> Stream of consciousness <br>says more of the same…and that..<br>I’m slowly going mad</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Whalen">David Whalen</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366528" data-title="Stream Of Consciousness de David Whalen" data-description="Stream of consciousness Thoughts that come at random With no foresight and no plan My fingers type at their own volition With no structured idea at hand I live in an environment of inquietude In an ambiance of unease and perhaps fear There’s ..."></div> </div> </div>

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