Pandemonium

I am thinking of what to think.

The indomitable moans nag to break free.

The door is locked.

Fastened without need.

The Key is with me;

Lost deliberately.

I desire a knock, not strange.

Obscure and abstract.

I am thinking of what to think.

Fallow mettle depresses sincerely.

Exacting hues steal away-

curl up into a soggy, unsure mass near my epiglottis.

Hard Metal's now an easy wager to my vocal chords.

The compass doesn't come to its' scheduled stop;

Staggers like my first ' A, B, C'.

And leaves me expecting fulfilment.

I am thinking of what to think...

surely nothing as impish as what I say.

I don't rhyme anymore.

It parted ways too.