236/365 : what does a dead end look like in your mind?

i imagine a brain
gray or pink
wet and inexplicably wonderful
crevices like windowsills
in a building that's all curled up
these pathways
that say, stay here
don't dismantle 
don't untangle
my place 
in this mess
this meaningful 
inexplicable 
chaos
i like where i belong
even if it got suddenly dark
suddenly stopped in the forrest of
thick bushes and over grown trees and out of control weeds
don't make me take the machete
to the way i am
don't make me carve a new plan
there is a flickering
locket in the
subconscious
of my fantasy
and inside it a picture
of who i want to be
spins and turns
pulls that stubborn
crab, curled up
in that hard shell magic
pulls it
into the sea