Through a Thought

I thought It was done,
I thought It moved out,
I thought I knew what I thought.

It always comes creeping,
It always comes steady,
It always holds to me bittersweet.

It calls me,
I hear It so well.
Not a word or a gesture,
Just the simple truth of color.

Images play out in my mind,
Growing into stories.
But when It flows down,
My wrists betray me.
Just enough is loosed to taunt me,
Just enough to forget,
Just enough can be written,
For It to settle as hurt.

My body begins to shake with jovial inspiration,
My body then withers from the overload,
For none of It can exit without horrid substitution.

If I work through the pain,
Another emotional hindrance will follow,
Thoughts of the future are no longer how they should be,
Things of completion no longer,
But things of the end.

I thought It was fine,
I thought It would work,
I wish I knew through my thought.