Mind Paralysis

Mind Paralysis by Odin Roark Perhaps our alter ego spider Spacewalking the ceiling’s moonscape of popcorn paint Will spew its silent tether, Another lure to temp our frozen stupor, Perhaps draw out our insomniac-demon For a tasty make-believe meal. Such are the psychic games we play While inhaling one’s scented candle Of cedar and pine, Trusting insentience will abate, Allow judgment to gavel peaceful silence, And end this fiendish sanity-court’s entrapment. How long must our stub of a pencil Remain idle beside its razor blade shavings? How this tool loves to goad our uninspired eyes To prod fingers into raising its sharpened point Springboard some words into fanciful flight Around our brain’s spacious dark side Discover its illumined side in passing And jettison some meaning Into unexplored mind-space. How patient the spider and pencil-- Waiting out a perceptive being’s limbo state, Anxious to extend their oneness of simple purpose Into our complexity of will. But— They know not the screaming parrot In our cage of discontent Convincing us of imitation’s voice Those uninspired words spoken many times Remaining valid for the masses Unexpected— An open window’s breeze Gives arc to innocence rappelling down Its web in undulating rhythmic motion, Tempting once again The pencil to rise above The crinkled bed Of whittled preparation. Perhaps tonight?