Caught into the maelstrom of absurdity. Today; there is no verse to traverse. Today there is only the notion of being trapped in a bubble of thoughts that are left to the whims of tempest or gentle breeze. Control is a farce of force pulling against the gravity of my reflections. Where one might look away, another might be looking too intently. And surely, intent is the breeding ground of the outcome. Yet somewhere lost betwixt and between is a middle ground of misdirection. Am I stuck in a bubble rising even as the air is running out in suffocation, or a raindrop drowning me as I fall to the death of an idea? Here I am trapped somewhere on a yellow line where one end sharply writes a word and the other erases all memory of context. Absurdity for sure; yet captured or free is it for me to be?