Click Click clickety-click
A rolling laughter in waves,
Increases like a storm, then comes spinning down
In little bouts,  Actually
My to do list stretches quite long as I enjoy frequently reminding myself
Feeling busy
Feeling like I'm useful
I have things
to do
But,
For some reason
Maybe none,
I don't
Open my tab
and do them
Click Click clickety-click

Like fine mature wine
Highly appreciated
Well recommended

Poetry is for thinkers, I think
Those who’d spend their days dreaming away
Or those who, in a moment of passion
Scrawl down their thoughts
On little post it note poems
No matter the medium
Though, one can not deny
Poetry is for thinkers

Now, this past week I’ve been a doer
Typically, my lazy temperament
Would prevent this
But things happened
And more things needed doing
Without a doer to do them

And now my mind has switched
And all I can think to do is do
Rather than think to think, reflect
My mind has transformed
From a dreamland
To a bucket list

Constant state of fear
Whats going to happen
What is it
How bad will it be
Will i loose him
Did they do something
Did i do something
What to do what to do
I need to stop crying
But i cant
Too Scared
What could happen
What will happen
Wait
Whats happening
I dont know what to do
What to do
What to do
What to do
I need help
What to do
What to do
What do i do

I sit
Stare
Wonder of the things that aren't here but are somewhere else.
Beige ceilings feel small when you stare at them all the time.
There's a sky beyond the plaster-
A dark sky that's full of animals and stars and clouds and noise.
Yet here I am
With nothing but the white noise of a heater and a faint ringing in my ears.
I think of all the time I waste thinking.

I could learn a different language.
Being able to speak to someone in many different cultures and continents would be interesting.

I could practice guitar or piano, learn a new instrument, create new music.
I love the way music twists and spills from my fingers like an ethereal waterfall.

I could draw and create a masterpiece.
Acrylic flows through my veins and keeps my heart pumping.
Watercolor dyes my body and my hair,
Washing me over in a wave of bright color.
Chalk dusts my skin, leaving me with a blurred finish.

I could exercise.
It would surely boost my poor self image.
I constantly look in the mirror and see a hideous shell.

Mending relationships and talking would fantastic,
A splendid way to make good use of my time.
A way to use my present to correct my past and improve the future.

Studying would be a good thing to do, as well.
The great me knows that my grades sure do need it.
I cannot deliver disappointment to my parents.

Maybe I could work, earn some more money
More money makes mankind merrier;
So it appears, money makes man merry.
I'd be contributing to my society and be making use of my time.

OR...

or...

I could continue to stare at a blank canvas above me,
Smooth as silk,
And I can think of all the things I could be doing right now
Instead of actually doing them
Because America is a nation of dreamers,
Not doers.

glued together with bonds of failing marriages,
engagements don't survive and the kids are leaving home.
tied down and trying to escape with death's carriage.
my family isn't much, but it's better than being alone.
university is soon, but i'm full of such disparage
i don't want to be me, i just want to roam.

my poetry is barely audible, hitting the wall and falling
flat against listening ears. is this all i'll amount to?
writing alone - at 3 am - always missing my calling?
life's gambling, i realise, i can't help but feel blue

My heart has turned catatonic.
I’m ready to explode.
All it takes is one good touch
and I’m ready to implode,
but I won’t admit it
untill I have given up my all.