You start small
We all do
Frantically flailing about
Trying to catch ideas
Buzzing like flies ‘round your head

You ****** them from the air
And press them onto paper
But the sneaky devils, they play dead
As long as you keep an eye on ‘em
And as soon as you turn to grab another
They mockingly take off of the page

A futile dance
Of reach, snap, splat and lose
The buzzing never dies
The sweat never dries out
The page soiled by the blood and guts
Of undead thoughts that never stay
But somehow always haunt

But, once in every while
You gather just enough
And they start to coalesce
Suddenly, the struggle is reversed
The clump just grows
Despite of all objections
And crystallizes
Into a structure and a form
It’s out of your control
And all is ****** inside
This whirlpool of occurrence
That boils the atmosphere
With each link being added
Until the world, and you
Both remain depleted

You crawl away
Bruised and fatigued
From the monstrosity created
To find a hiding spot
Where the noise will mask your presence
You wish to sleep, to heal
But ****
this wretched buzzing