Flux
what is undone
Let it go, it’s time to flow.
There’s dirt under my nails,
From my mind’s garden.
I’ve been hanging on the rails,
I’ll wash up, beg your pardon.
Let it go, no one can know.
Cultivating my inability to chat,
Nerves knocking like a woodpecker.
Clothespins in the wind go snap,
Fragments flying in need of succor.
Let it go, it was long ago.
It seems certainly unscrewed,
These metaphors are a stretch.
Like a ship that’s uncrewed,
In my mind’s eye, cognitive fetch.
Let it go, it’s time to grow.
Relentlessly coming through the void.
Vividly ripping into nature’s plan.
A case study, shout out to Freud.
Let’s see here, now, Bogeyman.
Let it go.
There is something felt in release.
Expended energy, matter set free.
Emotions channeled to a masterpiece.
Scraping out my skull, a simple plea.
Whatever is found, don't forsake me.
Enjoy these moments that make me.
Hang onto them even as they break me.
If it isn’t too much to ask, just take me.
I let it flow, left it all in flux.
I came undone, as one does.
It is natural you see, to let go.
Take it from me, no one you know.
Trustworthy sentiment, writing things.
Spewing out thoughts, like water springs.
The glue unstuck, subtlety stings.
Honesty feels as if beauty sings.
Harmonically arranged.
Sardonically deranged.
Platonically estranged.
Ironically changed.
Let.
It.
Go.
Twas time to write once more.
I’ll take it.
Chris is a dabbling writer of things with an evolving fancy italicized paragraph at the bottom of what’s written.
