I have laid quietly in my bed,
Listening to the scratchy rhythm of breathing,
All to no avail.
I need to be here, pounding keys,
Like ivories, ejecting whatever thoughts
Can't be silenced enough to sleep.
They pound out a beat in my head,
Never really revealing themselves,
Except as syncopated taps.
Each tap is mindlessly waking me,
Sending me on a journey,
Filled with frustration,
Awake as ever,
I resort to coming out,
Sitting down,
Trying to compose the music of my soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment