Late, and Wordless

I dash in the door

breathless

nose running

apace with my feet

purse bruising my hip

as it jostles

bounces

riding in grooves

immutably shoulder ingrained

scraping the peel

from my pumpkin skin

bells are chiming

in all the clocktowers

summoning me

hitching my ride

on the witching hour

elbows fiercely pumping

I must, I must

I must write or bust

warrior word wizardry

diurnal commitment

I think I can

I think I can

I think I can

I chug uphill

slowly, brain smoking

inky black and smoky

fragments overshadow

conceptual constellations

don’t look!

my words

may burn your eyes

white rabbit scampers

mutters

mad hatters

 

 

 

 

 

7 thoughts on “Late, and Wordless

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