Freewriting.
How absurd;
as if I ever paid
to do it.
But there's something to it,
letting it all hang
out of bounds,
out of whack,
out of sync,
out of sink,
the spillage
of irrational muse.
It tries to
put order to the happenstance;
haphazard rhymes
that just happen
dance themselves into
a meaning,
and then a melody
scrambles hurriedly
to be played
so the two can exchange
context.