WEIRD THOUGHT

 I am awake but my eyes are still closed. 

Struggle to fly away from my fantasy but my wings are too weak to carry me.

My passion was my only crime. I became a prisoner of my conscience.

I want to write. I have so many micro thoughts that piece together into a blanket that weighs my mind. 

I want to shake it off. 

Many are imagined, some real, some are anecdotes, while others are the perfect amalgamation of both that I can almost taste. 

My brain is faster than my hand. Yes! It's heavy like the sky suspended with a tin urn of thoughts but I can't send it down like the rain.

Some raw,  some dark, some so beautiful it makes me want to cry, others so sad I want to laugh. 

Weird Thoughts.

You don't have to understand, am not necessarily talking to you. 

Am purging. I need a release. But most times, I cannot pick a pen. Am caged in a den. The lions will tear me up. I see the key, yet cannot pick a pen. 

If you're a writer and you sometimes feel this way, it's okay. Because beside you, am right there.

Let's walk together. Let's #connect our brains with one plug and strings of the wireless network.

Let's get electrocuted so that we charge our brains and enjoy more ART.