Wrighte

I don’t wanna write but I feel something burning within me More like a need to write but as my fingers prance around keyboard nothing comes to mind. I should let my fingers do what my mind cant figure to say but What would my fingers know The toiling of my many unpopular discretions My incomprehensible jargon The definition of words I know not readily of the top of my head The love I have for such writers that make me envious Of their own torment and meanderings of thoughts that coalesce To make up a song My fingers know nothing of this As I continue to write my head stays full But my mouth is empty of words And of course my fingers wouldn’t know anything Funny enough I wish for this to be my day job Im laughing and crying at the same time at my misfortune of my Current state of….’writering’ Laughing cause it gives me joy despite everything else And crying because it may never come As heavy as the night weighs upon my chest The morning always comes and I can breathe The night obstructing my view of the sun While I hold steady constant my sights on the moon Praying the day will soon come But theres a smoke that lingers Maybe a crisis that I don’t understand A fire has broken out and something has become undone This phenomenon I would like to call a dream My sleep sets my pillow ablaze everynight And dremas fill up the summer sky. Definitely shall I look to the smoke for signal Everything good is always an aftermath Forever will always come after seven Seven will always come after one and one will always come after none The plight of my dreams or smokes are meant to meet with the night So my nones can turn to ones and my ones can turn to sevens And my sevens turn to forevers And forever bask in the glory of the sun of the day But I digress I still have nothing to write My fingers prance around the keyboard And its meandering thus far have led me to this Its not what you ‘wrighte’ but what you say And that is all I have to say.