PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Wait.

Why am I still awake?

Anxious,

I can’t sleep

and suddenly it’s too late.

Preparing

for what I know is coming

anticipation makes so much more sense

than feeling slightly drowsy, or even unenergetic.

Dangerously,

I’m operating heavy machinery.

Anything could happen from this point,

so my mind should print out warning labels

to stick to itself whenever it goes into overdrive.

Vociferously,

I use words I can’t think of

to describe what will happen soon.

The sound lingers long enough to exude

a sense of itself in surrounding and subsequent syllables,

at least until onomatopoeia sets in and the words can’t hear themselves think.

Incomprehensible

thoughts happen anyway.

They know they can’t explain

or even understand themselves,

but they enjoy existence in a vacuum,

or anywhere else they find themselves spilling

from lips in cascades out onto the floor for discussion.

Telecommunications

send messages to the mind’s eye

in this fashion, onto the screen which,

while playing movies for daydream stories,

blocks out the light so my brain can remain nocturnal

whatever time of day I find myself beaming carrier wave signals

for friends and acquaintances to pick up and retransmit with due discretion.

Call now, operators are standing by to install morphic resonance mental multimedia sets.