Thoughts from the pampa

some call it the pampa, this corner of former DDR which (undeserved?) luck gently blessed and prevented from becoming yet another piece of tabula rasa of WW II.
i call it pampa what is going on in my supposed brain right now. thoughts are cramming my mind and jostling to impose me action, all resulting into a prolonged numbness which leaves me exhausted even if i accomplish nothing.
i stand in front of a series of question marks and do not know which way to unfold them.
i feel the deadly attraction of what i think it´s called education- or culture- and any time i dare to dip my insecure hand into it, the monstrous size of its holiness pushes me back. i bounce back to my pampa and bang my head against reality, which is made of hour, minute and  even second hands unflappably ticking on the silence from which i try to scream.
faces around me look to educated, too slick, too cunning, too...faces.

my most sought after desire is so simple and childish i do not dare to confess myself this is really what i want. i let time drizzle away and break it down into smaller unities to try and arrange my void around it.
after all we only measure time when we are aware of it and cannot be overwhelmed by action.
i glance at my mental pampa and sigh, yet again, at the echo of my useless thoughts.