Freewriting Exercise 1

An apple falls on an energetic man. Sparks. Are we all made of stars or just anxious flames? Crayons for teeth and googly eyes in our nostrils- There are more monsters in our sketch pads than the closet. What is fear if not a rejection of our own lust? I paint anagrams on sidewalks And spray paint the library with lamb's blood. What morbid bulls**t. My music is like screaming hymns, The backbone of poetry. Can't write without the cacophony. Can't spell either, Just know the word I want to use. Is it sacrilegious to be an English major who can't spell? There are eyes in the tunnel, Glittering like fireflies. Haven't seen one of those since I moved to the city. Are my thoughts louder Or am I subconsciously thinking in a yell To make up for the cars honking? Never seen so many d**n streetlights. Maybe my poetry is fractured Because it's so f*****g noisy here. Haven't felt any privacy in two weeks, Too paranoid. The artwork in the A&H building makes me jealous. And intellectually hungry. Where are all the children? Need to color with a toddler to feel human again. Feels like everyone is blurring by And I'm stuck at a red light Pulsing pulsing pulsing There's more blood in me than sane thought processes And I think I'm allergic to stupid c***-hungry teenage boys. The attention is flattering But I'm oh-so-sick of hiding in my dorm room Staring at the toothpaste stain on my gray sheets.