I don’t wanna write but I feel something burning within me
More like a need to write
but as my fingers prance around keyboard
nothing comes to mind.
I should let my fingers do what my mind cant figure to say but
What would my fingers know
The toiling of my many unpopular discretions
My incomprehensible jargon
The definition of words I know not readily of the top of my head
The love I have for such writers that make me envious
Of their own torment and meanderings of thoughts that coalesce
To make up a song
My fingers know nothing of this
As I continue to write my head stays full
But my mouth is empty of words
And of course my fingers wouldn’t know anything
Funny enough I wish for this to be my day job
Im laughing and crying at the same time at my misfortune of my
Current state of….’writering’
Laughing cause it gives me joy despite everything else
And crying because it may never come
As heavy as the night weighs upon my chest
The morning always comes and I can breathe
The night obstructing my view of the sun
While I hold steady constant my sights on the moon
Praying the day will soon come
But theres a smoke that lingers
Maybe a crisis that I don’t understand
A fire has broken out and something has become undone
This phenomenon I would like to call a dream
My sleep sets my pillow ablaze everynight
And dremas fill up the summer sky.
Definitely shall I look to the smoke for signal
Everything good is always an aftermath
Forever will always come after seven Seven will always come after one and one will always come after none
The plight of my dreams or smokes are meant to meet with the night
So my nones can turn to ones and my ones can turn to sevens
And my sevens turn to forevers
And forever bask in the glory of the sun of the day
But I digress
I still have nothing to write
My fingers prance around the keyboard
And its meandering thus far have led me to this
Its not what you ‘wrighte’ but what you say
And that is all I have to say.