Mar 2018
Swimming in the water
Swimming all around.
Swimming in the ocean.
On my own in my own world.
Just there
And swimming.
Words
Coming to mind without care.
A whirlwind of vocabulary that is hardly kind.
Swimming, flowing constantly throughout
My mind.
Trying to find sleep
Words mingle together
Creating forms that
I must keep.
Deep in conversation
Words begin their journey,
However
I must emphasize,
The words are always
Present.
Just louder during times they
Find fit.
Frustrated, trying to understand what’s going on
Outside my mind,
What’s going on in class
But the words are itching to be written down.
Try an I might, telling the words
“No, not now, I need to sleep,”
but they are words, they do not listen
Never have I fallen prey to the illness that all writers dread,
The sudden block of words flowing to their heads.
It’s quite a shock,
How my words never stop.
Begin writing one series of words, don’t get to finish
As a result of new words, that do
not belong with the
original set.
Finish those, go back finish the others.
Process never stops
Like animals,
attacking without hesitation,
Demanding to be heard
Trillions of words in my head
and on my notebooks
But only mere thousands have been heard.
My words are angry
My words are sad
Filled with joy
Often depressed,
Occasionally coy.
These words make me
For I make these words.
But do not for one second think
That these words are me
These words
Are mere interpretations
Of what I see, hear, and witness.
These words
Are My interpretations of what I see through
Myself, but mostly through the world itself.
These words,
Have driven people mad.
Trying to find sleep,
Words continue to mingle, not as loud
But creating forms I must keep
Trying to find sleep,
These words will be heard
Capture the one that are loudest.
Now my mind has been assured.
Words forming
when instead I should be focusing on dreadful math.
I hear the words
that people say.
Heavy eyelids,
Head spinning,
Just want to rest for a spell
Lightheaded, unconcentrated.
Drowning in words.
Drowning in their noisy sound.
Even now, i am not feeling well.
Some people would call this,
The writers gift
Or is the the curse of words?
Swimming all around.
Swimming in the ocean.
On my own in my own world.
Just there
And swimming.
Words
Coming to mind without care.
A whirlwind of vocabulary that is hardly kind.
Swimming, flowing constantly throughout
My mind.
Trying to find sleep
Words mingle together
Creating forms that
I must keep.
Deep in conversation
Words begin their journey,
However
I must emphasize,
The words are always
Present.
Just louder during times they
Find fit.
Frustrated, trying to understand what’s going on
Outside my mind,
What’s going on in class
But the words are itching to be written down.
Try an I might, telling the words
“No, not now, I need to sleep,”
but they are words, they do not listen
Never have I fallen prey to the illness that all writers dread,
The sudden block of words flowing to their heads.
It’s quite a shock,
How my words never stop.
Begin writing one series of words, don’t get to finish
As a result of new words, that do
not belong with the
original set.
Finish those, go back finish the others.
Process never stops
Like animals,
attacking without hesitation,
Demanding to be heard
Trillions of words in my head
and on my notebooks
But only mere thousands have been heard.
My words are angry
My words are sad
Filled with joy
Often depressed,
Occasionally coy.
These words make me
For I make these words.
But do not for one second think
That these words are me
These words
Are mere interpretations
Of what I see, hear, and witness.
These words
Are My interpretations of what I see through
Myself, but mostly through the world itself.
These words,
Have driven people mad.
Trying to find sleep,
Words continue to mingle, not as loud
But creating forms I must keep
Trying to find sleep,
These words will be heard
Capture the one that are loudest.
Now my mind has been assured.
Words forming
when instead I should be focusing on dreadful math.
I hear the words
that people say.
Heavy eyelids,
Head spinning,
Just want to rest for a spell
Lightheaded, unconcentrated.
Drowning in words.
Drowning in their noisy sound.
Even now, i am not feeling well.
Some people would call this,
The writers gift
Or is the the curse of words?
