POETRY: MISCELLANEA
order of spiralling down the straits line
not always at 36.6° C
step 1 — tired, bored, sleepy
my eyes, head, and back hurt;
step 2 — rejection
of everything that comes to mind
though I try hard
to stay afloat
nothing helps;
step 3 — burying my wrath
in the ground
no one can turn the tide;
step 4 — depression
feeling low with my writing ego
I can’t put a single word
on paper until
step 5 — I can read
some instructions, inspirations, incantations
entertaining my head
and saying hello to me a billion times
until
step 6 — I dive into it
breaking my pen off with inconsistency
in a smooth surge of sentences
streaming like the fastest
Internet connection;
nothing can stop me now, I am invincible
just a small blemish on my carpet
until this whole machine
starts spinning again
at a rhythm unknown to me
ready to be
calmed down
constantly
in this circle of life
the inevitability every time
occurring in my life
with such an
irrationally invigorating impetus
