Trapped While the Foreman Sleeps

March 8, 2011
By , Cincinnati, OH
I spend so much time in my brain,
spinning through nerves,
living in each synapse,
breathing with each stretch of the world’s most undervalued muscle
its play-dough,
molded by the world I live in, the one I came from,
and the one I create.

Each lesson learned is a branch growing others,
Each experience like a laugh line,
Each passion a color,
my own personal Polluck.

Its a safeguarded prison,
and the inmates--my thoughts,
locked in while the foreman snores,
but after all someone has to steal the keys.

Have you ever thought about it?
What it looks like when thoughts escape,
do they tiptoe out our ears, swing from our earlobes and jump,
fly until they hit the ground,
but like life giving water, dissipate and return,
Back in my brain but with a new name, given a new cell,
still trapped while the foreman sleeps.

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abdmusiclover said...
Dec. 10, 2011 at 9:39 am
If it isn't too much troube, I would love feedback after you read this. Good or bad I don't care...I can handle it...just thoughts
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