Quickly slip into the serenade of my heart
apart
from all the world
I think
I sink
into my thoughts
my thoughts are sinking
in guilt?
in Jealousy?
in reluctant advocacy?
Who knows.
I know?!
Nah, I just write
Spill the words,
they flow,
like the ideas of millions
are just the fuel for my imagination,
the fuel for my fingers
banging out this nonsensical
rant on who knows what.
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1 comment:
My favorite part:
"Who knows?
I know?
Nah, I just write
Spill the words,
they flow"
That's so true. Sometimes it just spills. People try to make something really deep of it sometimes when we weren't even intending. But then, that's the beauty of poetry. Even the poet himself (or herself) can find meaning in the layers, even after the fact!
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