You hear poems on various things
Of suicide and love,
Tear sodden cheek and carved arms,
Of friends and more.
But when have you read a poem on poem?
A thought in a thought?
A dream in a dream?
A show in a show?
Almost never.
So here I go
For individuality.
Sitting back in my chair I search for something,
Something inspirational.
I take in all my surroundings, until I find one glistening object that catches my eye.
With a dramatic speed I take in everything possible until am so full I am overwhelmed.
Every detail is etched into my brain.
The scent, the feeling, the appearance, and the essence of the object.
Inside my head many ideas are screaming to be released,
I puke everything out onto this paper through the keys I touch ever so gently.
Words are unclear but precisely I place them throughout the page.
One thought follows another and another until I can’t stop.
My head is racing and my breath is uneasy; my fingers are unable to keep up with the pace of my racing mind.
Suddenly I stop
And draw back to appreciate the bulimic behavior my mind has just committed.
