Its been a while since i’ve wrote some poetry.
My pen moves swiftly across white planes
creating loops and turns,
abrupt periods in my thoughts,
forcing me to stop,
How long has it been since i followed the lines being traced out by my own mind,
ecstasy had nothing to do with the madness being spat out of my mouth,
or the illustration being seen in my head.
My sanity has been confined to a computer chair that spins round and round,
like a clock trying to pass time,
The quality of these blank white planes,
filled with only the loops and curves,
the abrupt periods of my thoughts will determine my minds quality of intelligence.
Forty thousand dollars doesn’t compare to the four hundred thousand seconds i’ve spent stretching to last a little more in a day.
1 cup, 2 cup, 3 cups done.
spasms attack my blood stream with caffeinated delirium.
convulsions begin to flicker in my eyes, as i try to finish 10 pages worth of another persons history.