The clutter of his mind
Spun with thoughts
Or
Rather
Ceased to spin at all

Whizzing so fast
With velocity so great
That they clung
Plastered to the walls

Once initiated
It was hard to slow down
A train
A suicide jumper

Reflexes habitual
An airplane taking off
With engines of force
Reaching an altitude to glide

But rather than glide
His thoughts stall
Mind and soul
In a sudden descent