My mind is doing time. It's imprisoned in it's own solitary compartment. It has decided to leave and fled the scene. It didn't leave a replacement or an understudy, not even a thank you note for all of those days it used my body as host. I don't know it's choice of travel but I remember it being scared of flight. It probably took sail and is in the middle of the ocean blue. Minds tend to like sailing and the feeling of the waves when they hit the side of the boat. They are prone to be attracted to chaos and to dangerous situations. A mind will search for the best way to loose itself and have an excuse to never come back. My mind specifically likes to take spontaneous drifts into nothingness. Dementia, some books will call it. But I know it always comes back, it's a faithful mind this mind of mine. Untrustworthy and rarely predictable but it wins me back with it's loyalty. It loves the sea but it lost interest in learning how to swim. It likes to place itself in riddles, puzzles and once in a while, duels. To the death that is... luckily it always wins, it's a fast mind this mind of mine. It minds constantly about it's state and it's constantly checking itself for sanity. So worry-some this mind of mind, searching for the next maybe, never sure, always doubting, this worried mind this mind of mine. Powerful as only it knows it can be yet it's not sure enough about it's strength, if only it knew the truth that lies beneath. It is as powerful as it lets itself to be. And it tightens up and holds air in for days. It breathes every other month, when it remembers it has to, to survive. A mindless mind this mind of mine.