When I want to massage my mind, I waste ink.
With paper’s help I goose my head, massage!
As I sneeze ink, paper collects, cleans.
I sneeze and the words adjust, lines rotate.
I fill out the sheet and the lines go waste, massaging.
Fingers grow weary…………doodling.
But my mind sees, sees beyond my eyes
and hips hills of logos to my feet.
Floods my head with occeans of words down to my seat
Then…
I feel bumps bumping gooses accross the skins of my veins.
Wonderings…
Thoughts, capabilities and dots of possibilities…
Thought…ful sisters envelop my brains
and I can’t stop…
I find new strength as her sheets go waste,
Don’t know why…
Countless cancellations, my push ups to new heigths,
Don’t know why…
My mistakes, my dreaded keys to new frontiers
And I don’t know why it is so……… Soo massaging…. ‘ashhh’!
I continue to massage, then meaning starts teasing beauty through
Spreads her legs across the sheet, peeping through… the doodles…
And she leads me on ….
But times many times the ones above disagree
Free me I prayed, I cried…. and I’m not free
And they fight me, fight me until we agree to massage me…
And we agree, its healing
As I follow the lines, the clock thicked
My soul wearied, but she wants
Why me? Massaging me. I want to stop and… She won’t, she wants, more of me…… ‘muhh’….
When I want to massage my mind, I waste ink
With Paper’s help………. Write