if you could flip the mania on like a switch:
florescent daylight before 5am,
scrubbed-clean-white-sterile —
a little unfocused but steady &
feeling like skipping lettrs.
flip on all the words to make sense —
clarity sears like hot sparks
burning in,
leaving their mark.
briefly it is all too much;
& much too wonderful.
i need to save it, to keep it
in imaginary strands.
i am desperate for an empty page
to spill the racing mind
but even my hands are stunned;
twelve sentences for every.. disjointed one i write —
here then gone in the same second,
like a hummingbird at the glass.
in my minds eye i grab on, both fists,
wrapping my arms up in understanding & form
typing useless lettrs in an effort to never forget
the things that have suddenly started making sense —
once misinterpreted but now without blame
insight exists in stunning form: glittering & gold.
almost as if a test:
to know this, & believe it for a suspicious second
even knowing in a moment i’ll be back to before
where the lessons sound chalky
& just fall flat,
pushed away with a single utterance of bullshit
whispered, quiet, under the breath.
& that’s all it takes;
tendrils of truth drip off my arms &
almost as if imagined,
they ceased to exist;
& suddenly i am here again:
the reality that stings,
the thing that runslikethis & nevershutsup.
suddenly
all my sense of self in separate bags,
floating off on balloons & strings.
i don’t have enough hands, or fingers that don’t slip,
so i am kinda screwed,
but it hurts too much to care.
wondering,
why is it that
the only time my mind is clear
is when my body’s blurry.
dancingindarkrooms 