The Scribbler

13 October 2009

3am blog

Filed under: words — The Scribbler @ 03:18

I’m wound tighter than a twister. Dancing on my toes, guard up, ready to explode.

A fried blue metallic sizzle. Circuits in overdrive, neurons pinballing. Magnesium fizzes, burns sharp bright white and leaves a round black hole.

Forgetting and remembering too late. Frustrated thoughts stranded like cracked spaghetti.

Bile creeps to my breastbone, binding me in impatience. To do, to please, to act my part. Conscious that one wrong move could send me spiralling. My gut a burning cauldron.

I close my eyes and see the calmness of a sea breeze. The smoothness of a gliding movement through the air. The easy rhythm of breath and feet. The emptiness of mind.

But this too must wait.

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