The muse strikes back…

Herds of words invade my mind at the most inopportune time;

When Im behind the wheel of my car, there they are;

Scores of similes and metaphors;

Cadence galore;

In the office, at a meeting;

My muse must think Im cheating;

In she barges, irony in tow;

Demanding my attention;

Passion and ascension;

These gems, these jewels;

We’re quite the crew on a few bar stools;

Wood whittling this art;

Taking long sips of symmetry;

Until we lose track of time;

Then I realize that Im at the store, in line;

It’s my turn but again;

My mind has been hijacked by a herd of words;

Multiples, millions, syllables of prose;

Layers of an onion, petals of a rose;

Where do they live?

I mean…where do they go?

When it’s quiet and I have nothing to do?

When I have the attention to give?

Are they anvils sitting atop doors?

As soon as I walk through, they slam me to the floor;

Pinning me to their purpose;

Force feeding me hyperboles;

I never resist, they’ll just persist;

Abusive and intrusive of the best kind;

These herds of words stomping the literary into me;

They bloody me with the history of past lives;

Ive grown brusied by the page;

Sage wisdom stings every laceration;

Awakening the poet that sleeps within;

Such sadistic alliteration;

The abrupt interruption of my conversation with a friend;

Ends when the herd pinches a nerve;

Im forced to comply;

With anxious eyes, I apologize for my sudden need to heed the beckoning;

A reckoning is upon me;

Write or fight;

Write or flight;

The herd, I heard;

These words I herd on paper, with pen;

With ink on my skin;

On screen from touch;

My companion when loneliness has me in its clutch;

There’s not enough writhing to free me;

Not enough tithing to save me;

Even in death, Im survived by the herd;

The herd of words that invades my mind at the most inopportune time.

© Copyright 2015 Crystal J

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