filing cabinets

you keep stopping when you could be walking 

looking at the pictures on the wall 

you keep quiet when you should be talking 

you just don't make any sense at all

Panic seized me until I shoved the errant thought into the mentally manifested construct of my compartmentalization. Torrid, slate gray cabinets tapering into an aisle of darkness. This is my most clearly defined mental "room", it's vividness perhaps a testament to its necessity. The burning in my chest dissipated as I calmed, having been given a taste of the power of the unconscious mind. 


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