Directionless

There is something unsettled
subtle and perhaps unspeakable to most
But lines are sneaking out from a few of us
as good heart worms
that would otherwise quietly diminish
Do we talk to ourselves too much
or our mind are keeping us roll
nonstop
in any tick of moments we called life
or named self
Each one is a sea
and each of those ticks is a flower
of endless waves
So we could merge into each other's
or run on around as stubborn current
where the movement is not self controllable