My mind is a creator
But the mess it leaves behind is suffocating
And I am drowning
Drowning in the constant need to create
Unable to move, I sit silently as I watch it unfold, daily, in so many new ways
My thoughts run endless circles
Too fast to capture a single one
You don't understand, I know
Mentally running in circles is exhausting
All you can witness is the empty shell of a body that tries to clean up behind an invisible creator, unsuccessfully
My mind is an artist, a thinker, a musician, a builder, a writer
And sometimes even a poet
But the mess it leaves behind is paralysing
Sometimes all I want is to grab a thought, rip it out of a thinking process and bury it
To rest, for just a while
You think I'm lazy, I know
I often stay in bed, hoping to drowse away the thought I couldn't bury
You judge me by the productivity outside my head
Have you ever tried to satisfy a creator?
YOU ARE READING
Midding [yet another diary]// A collection
Poetryv. intr. feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it-hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to your friends ch...
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