Spinning words.

I have this spinning mind,

messes with my head all the time,

I don’t really think about it,

but she is here,

crossing wires,

making jumps,

balancing rythmes,  

she is free,

I can’t control,

It’s like a balloon that flows,

and goes up into the air,

never know,

when to stop.

Goes up up up,

into the ceiling,

and I feel my spirit start leaving.

 

Carries me away

even when I want to stay,

blows and goes,

words spread,

into my own head,

pretending is meaningful,

not harmful,

but I see myself talking to the moon,

in the darkness she says,

take this weapon for the fight

is a pen, I see a harpoon.

 

Internal revolution,

the instrument it’ just a reflex,

of a mind in confusion,

trying to make sense.

 

I have this spinning mind,

makes me forward and rewind,

I really don’t think about it,

nevermind…

 

– Irina Marques

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Photography and poem by Irina Marques. The photo was token in Kapadokya, Göreme on Turkey.