I sit and write in a fruitless attempt to tire the everlasting words which plummet in a perpetual plunge over the tip of my mind and my fingers cramp as my pencil breaks but the words are pushing, shoving, cramming themselves against the inside of my skull as I vaguely realize that I have been rambling for some time. I close my eyes and slow my breathing but to no avail as clusters of unspoken thoughts clot withing my lungs. I bite my lip and think ironically of my own characters doing the same and sometimes I laugh though I don't know why but these characters, these living people dwell within the paper as my fingers shake. The torrent of words has slowed for once and as I feel its absence I immediately miss and regret their delicious taste. They will soon be tattooed onto my skin like ink on parchement. These words have lasted long and I fear for my readers well being so I cradle the thoughts and keep them settled as best I can next to my heart for another time when my hand itches for the pen.
YOU ARE READING
Meandering Thoughts
PoesiaMy very first book of poetry throughout which a handful of thoughts are tossed, and even crafted, onto the page. I'll update regularly. Here's hoping it's a good one.
