Freewriting #1, A Concerto In The Key Of Q

Sometimes I need to say something

And not like I have something I need to say, some burning churning turning on the tongue fighting to get out, biting to get out, kicking and screaming for voice in the open and shallow world.

Not like that, no.

And not like the need comes from others, mothers, brothers, or lovers looking for an answer, a comfort for cancer, a nod to the dancer, no need breeding where others are feeding, others are bleeding, others are reading.

Not like that, no.

But like a need that comes from down in my spine, turn the water from my eyes into whine, a need that’s nobody’s but mine, only mine, all mine, and a mine is a terrible thing to waste, but I’m wasting, with each tasting of the hastening vortex sucking down from my cortex fucking round just for more sex, more vexed, more text text text text

Full stop.

That’s how they end their sentences, while we do so periodically.

Forgive this aside gliding sliding by, biding time, chiding rhymes riding by in rime-choked tides that mean less with each eroding wave, ebbing their way down to sand, grains alone in the beach. So once more unto the breach, reaching for teachings we’ve been beseeching, leeches’ speeches spoken without remoras.

I don’t know the madman lexicon, just borrowed a few choice phrases, raisins bathing in the sun to become more truly themselves and distance themselves from those bloated water-filled monstrosities of their youth.

Uncouth, you say, well, fair enough, go ahead and say it. As this hodgepodge dodgeball game of words is only for myself, let your criticisms be only for you. I’ve no place judging you judging me judging myself.

We go back and look on where we’ve come and take the whiteout to our memories, forming a more perfect picture, erasing the terrors till they become only errors and then only

White space.



If you’ve caught your breath, let’s begin again, diving in, just a few more inches till we reach the bottom and find quiet at last or a tunnel to fine china we lost overboard.

Overboard, for I’m bored, and this is over.

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5 Responses to Freewriting #1, A Concerto In The Key Of Q

  1. zaionczyk says:

    *beatnik snap applause*

  2. Pingback: 17-Minute Poem | Mindless Productivity

  3. Fantastic! This totally deserves to be Freshly Pressed.

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