Itchy Poetry

Sometimes

without pencil and white space

I think

my mind would go dizzy

with thought, too much heart

all cluttered in space

ambiguity--

my mind would burst in the mix

nowhere to go

 

Sometimes

I feel possessed

pencil so furious in grip

looping around page so fast--

what do the symbols

REALLY

mean?--

just need to get it out

 

Sometimes

my fingers feel itchy

and the itch creeps

to my ears, to my toes--

Don't we all want to scratch?

Lullabies in showers

Post-it notes on nightstands

Tapping rhythms on steering wheels

 

Sometimes

I'm so nervous

my ideas scatter

like alphabet soup

airborne dandelion seeds

vomit

and my heart beats too fast

and the world goes numb--

 

But then in this notebook

eight by eleven

The words spill out

 

I come alive.

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