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Edward-ColesPoems
Spring-loaded, Nervous energy; Often wondering In an archer, a yogi- Gathering static strength, A tension With the potential Of absolution; Else a stopwatch wound Too tight. A pointless climb, An effortless demise- Out of time, Out of mind. Cannot walk slow. Baulk beneath The cathedral, Lengthening of the shadow; Another wasted day. Often wondering if idle or incomplete, Whether the chip On my shoulder Is a flute Or a fatal malady. Managed the cap and gown With a professional smile. Found my audience When I gave it up. Often wondering What I am doing, Sat drunk at the typewriter Alone; Often wondering Which is more fearful; the void Or the comfort of home.
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Writer at 1a.m.
Spring-loaded, Nervous energy; Often wondering In an archer, a yogi- Gathering static strength, A tension With the potential Of absolution; Else a stopwatch wound Too tight. A pointless climb, An effortless demise- Out of time, Out of mind. Cannot walk slow. Baulk beneath The cathedral, Lengthening of the shadow; Another wasted day. Often wondering if idle or incomplete, Whether the chip On my shoulder Is a flute Or a fatal malady. Managed the cap and gown With a professional smile. Found my audience When I gave it up. Often wondering What I am doing, Sat drunk at the typewriter Alone; Often wondering Which is more fearful; the void Or the comfort of home.
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#anxiety#writing
Edward-Coles
Written by
Edward-Coles
26/M/English
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
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