Saturday, March 26, 2011

jenga

a soup of words, 
is as best as how i
could describe them. 
semi-formed poems,
thoughts, feelings, all 
swimming in my head,
bumping, waiting, waiting
for the right sentences
to form, as if the words 
try to set themselves onto
these pre-formed molds, 
a kind of fixed measure 
for what my brain sees as 
perfect and beautiful. 
sentences merging together
to make paragraph blocks, 
an architecture of words,
building, forming shapes,
forms, buildings, structures
that inspire, intrigue and awe,
spires, towers, and cathedrals 
that aspire to reach heaven.
one on top of the other
they pile, stacking till ever 
so high, so high until i have
none more to say,
none more to write, 
think or do.
my stores are depleted, 
my ideas all 
exhausted
either that or 
when my thoughts
fail me and everything
 just comes
crashing 
                  down.

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