Newbiggin by the Sea Creative Writing Group

Where You Least Expect

The elevator inside my head
Only goes to the thirteenth floor,
I have to walk the rest of the way
Looking for the things I've hidden from myself.

So, I have to learn to act, not just react
To the pressure I build on myself.
In the epicentre of a brain-quake
My mind shakes
Making it hard to create,
So the lines come out all broken.

You've all heard of white noise.
My silence has gone,
Replaced by black noise
And I think I'm only 24 hours away from an explosion,
Anything to dispel this inertia.

On the road to the promised devil may care
These transient ideas, shift
Like opaque dreams behind my eyes,
These transparent ideas
Can be seen to be true.

I let my writing do the talking
So I can sit tight lipped
And watch as lives pass by,
It's a good way of living
To see all the random differences
And the jigsaw patterns
That makes up this fictional reality.

I have some thoughts that don't fit in,
I usually write them down,
Baited,
Weighted,
Castrated,
I've just told you
Not everything fits.

I wonder:
Where am I in all these dead memories
Which hang inside these
Evolutionary, revolutionary poems?
I bow my head to hide my smile.

Now; I am a shadow
But shadows are still real,
Real but untouchable.
Like thick viscous smoke
I disappear
Look out for me
Where you least expect.