My Brain

This is what it feels like to be me. Sometimes.

Poem 3

Spry, young, limbs, alive with tension and vibration,

Tapping, shaking, springing into step, vibrant, and never still,

Bouncing hands with jiggling fingertips, folding, typing,

Flipping you off and twirling and grasping and drumming

Against tabletops and on pots and pans and windowsills.

Feet like jumping beans, toes curling and releasing,

Jumping, dancing, shimmying into dark blue skinny jeans.

 

Eyes dull, staring, slow blinks, enveloped in lands of fantasy.

Cue wizards and witches and broomsticks and potions,

Cue love of the long departed, cue death, cue monsters.

Watch me move, listen to the life that lives within the boundaries of my body,

Hear the voice that never speaks, the laugh that contains itself to a smirk,

The echoes of songs, repeated choruses, drums, guitar, violin, and trumpet;

See the energy riveting through my veins, let me live here,

Right inside my head. 

Reviews

[Shy Joe]

"jiggling fingertips, folding, typing,
Flipping you off and twirling and grasping...." I loved that part. Caught me off guard with the flipping you off bit. This is different and that's not a bad thing. Good to see change on here for sure. Thanks for sharing.

[Anna White]

Thanks so much for the review!! I really appreciate you taking the time to write one out. :)