Loose Marbles

My eyes are vibrating from the friction of thoughts darting past each other through the same thought-portal—squeezing themselves together into long stringy strands of knowledge—intertwining thoughts into threads. I lick them, and curl them around my tongue, tying them into mouthfuls the size of marbles and spit them out. Plop! There goes the tiniest insult and the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life! Wound up tight in a thought-string memory ball! Plop! And another one, spit out on the table, rolls onto the floor, and Pop! Opens up in a poof of string! It’s green! The strings! Flying everywhere! A puff of silliness and a moment of laughter bursting to know what it feels like to vanish into thin air.