Alive
Lost thoughts in a network of pine cones.
Thinking thoughts, glomming on, ruptured…
I tried to write something inspiring as-
The electricity of hopelessness churning out dust bunnies.
Alive.
You know what’s inspiring?
Glass orbs, wooden bed posts, and trains.
They just hold still, or move a lot.
All of us are:
Butterflies with pancake batter wings,
Witches brew that tastes really good.
Lost thoughts in a network of pine cones.
Just like the energy of holding back the splatter.
Like bones who have nothing.
Or muscles that are enraged.
A witches brew with pine cones and no magic at all.
Tastes as good as surrounded by sparks.
We all hold still, or move.
Relax as much as a brain in a socket.
You know who’s inspiring?
Anyone of the people who escaped like electricity.
Made me wake up feeling inspired in some witches brew, rough, slobbery way.
Alive.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
