Tacit Gulp
Locations
I put my pencil to the page and sparks flew
as the sheer pressure of my thoughts
compounded with words to create an ephemeral sense of joy.
No substitutes for the attainment of euphoria,
as my expressions come alive through the sound of the graphite
slowly killing itself to live for me.
Efforts not in vane, living through titles, a spirit name.
A moniker for a minute - names are intemporal.
Spirit is transgenerational
names are one dimensional,
you do not know me.
i am indescribable
i am unnamable.
I live through the energies that
travel to you
through your pores my presence permeates
I live beside and within you.
The invisible electrical current casually accesses your senses.
Inside your brain I swirl on your synapses, the praxes of my writing.
My ever elusive stream of consciousness often escaping capture
allowing excuses to mount and surpass my ability to grasp.
I lament at the missed opportunities
when I permit myself to not write and fight for flight,
but to be patient and inert.
I want to plant the tree of impatience
to bear the fruit of not sitting and waiting
charge the world with interest for the time it has taken
as I have acquiesced and complied the typicalities of society.
I believe in the power of these words,
but thoughts seem so few and far in between that I am left longing.
I don’t know if belief will surpass the evident misinformation.
I wait for words
but
they have released themselves of my mind’s fetters.
I do not control them as much as they control me.
I write in the hopes that you can understand me
without expending energy by moving my mouth excessively .