Mind Flow

Sometimes there comes upon me

The desire to spill words from my lips

An aching and a sad debating for myself

To be heard.

I want you to know that I try my very best

To use "Proper grammar, 

Good diction, appropriate spelling, and correct writing techniques"

But sometimes I fear the language, sentences, and volumes

That find their way into my chest, beneath my ribs and under my lungs

Must force their way out. "Make us known,"

They scream, echoing into the pale blue sky

Which is too kind for the thoughts which weigh upon my soul.

I must confess that this poem has no forethought,

No planning, and no plot.

I fear the end is unknown to me, and I shall soon find out

If my free verse will measure up.

Today I had a very honest conversation

With what I must now notice, is one of my oldest friends.

The speech was interesting, but what mattered more

Was the friendship that I believe brought us both to our hypothetical knees

In the realization that we were, indeed, friends.

Now, I know that I tend to overthink, but the purpose of this little exercise

Is to deal with that. Recently I discovered a lovely process

Called brain dumping. I fear I must find a less contemptuous name...

I think mind flow may be more lovely a title

For such a dandy practice.

I hope I have not bored you, yet,

As my rambling and rumbling wears on.

However, to the faithful few who still read, I congratulate you

For making it to the end, which was, moments ago, to me,



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