Walking a tightrope

my head is full and heavy.

like my brain is drowning in water
while running from crocodiles
whose jaws snap, sending ripples through my interstitial fluids.

my brain is a bar filled with drunken raucous men
or a market square at noon
drowning in voices.

behind my closed eyes is a country at war
knowing no peace, knowing no reprieve.

words consume me
poetry hunts me
sleep eludes me

there is a thin line between creativity and madness.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Yemie says:

    The Narrator paints a quite chaotic…. grisly picture with these sinister but super artistic lines and the turmoil he/she is being subjected to as evidenced from those lines is only best imagined. 😯The horror! πŸ˜ˆπŸ˜†

    While I know for a fact that Creatives have got a lot going on for ’em especially as it concerns this boundless imagination most are gifted with, I also know that there’s a clear distinction between being a Creative and being a Lunatic. πŸ˜… ‘The mind that finds its way to wild places is the Poet’s, but the mind that never finds its way back is the lunatic’s – G. K. Chesterton . πŸ˜‰πŸ˜…

    So then, this Creative needs to cut him/herself some slacks and take the edge off….breathe and let go. In time, you’d bounce right back and just waltz…walk the line like easy breezy lemon squeezy! 😁

    Fantastic job you did achieve with this piece Doc, writer’s block’s never looked so ‘lethally’ frightening. I’m soooo spooked! πŸ˜ˆπŸ˜‚

    1. topazo says:

      Thank you Yemie!

      >

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