This beautiful creature lives in me

I am but a poet not a scholar but a writer creating my own network of emotions balanced over sudden mental break’s absence of tolerance to be quieted to be numb empty eccentrically desired memoirs that allow sullen matter with the meetings of the minds quoting my very existence catered to the finite infamous wisdom of my sheer beauty bestowed hidden scrolls within my grasp a goddess of art poetry and song I am patient I am loud only in my thoughts a muse as I tremble like rumbling thunder beneath the midst of Apollos hear when I simple can’t find the right words the gravity that forms to actually place pen to paper as I study the slow movement the minute hand on vintage brass clocks I master time clinging to the chimes the springs the nuts the bolts while the second hand fascinates me counting ever grain of sand within the hour glass my figure outlined to make them began again and again with my song when there’s absolutely nothing left I fear being lost without rational thinking malice folds beneath me like white linen as I am aching pondering about the essence of my own poetic gesture that simply reads write you beautiful exceptional creature