A head full of thoughts can lead to a leakage, where thinking becomes air and air becomes tangible. If hats held heads together, fabric could become a fortress. Stuck in the gums of brain fog, ideas crank through a system of lines lost in linen. Black threaded jutting bears a force that dislodges them from somewhere in between. They unravel quickly. Clawing, biting, and rotted through strands of stick strutted anorexia, the brain becomes skinny when stray thoughts are purged. Out through the brain and into the air, they are gone like yesterday’s intentions.

9 thoughts on “Hat

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