It’s not the best thing in the world,
But surely it is not the worst.

It’s not like massive sunburn, or the plague,
Or the Cubs ******* again, or anything related to Pearl Harbor.

It’s not like breaking all the bones in your body, or hospital burning down,
Or a serial killer on the loose, or impatiently waiting on someone.

It’s like time stops, but everything moves around you.
It’s like the clouds float around without caring.

Your body yields at the floating bodies and furniture and food laughing at you.

The fingers move across the keyboard invisibly typing words you don’t even know.

Sounds of the keys pounding because your mind is cramping and screaming for help.

It’s like being frozen in Hell because of all the things you say all the time,
When it comes to writing something, all you can do is hold a match
And hope your mind melts words onto the page.