My Performance | Teen Ink

My Performance

June 8, 2011
By kml91225 GOLD, Dedham, Massachusetts
kml91225 GOLD, Dedham, Massachusetts
16 articles 5 photos 1 comment

Dance, Dance I say!
I command.

Flawlessly, without a thought
my emotions flow through my body.
Tingling in my right hand,
fingertips come alive in anticipation.

Effortlessly, my hand hovers and gracefully
removes a pencil from the cluttered desk.
Like lost lovers reunited,
the pencil wanders and finds the crisp white pages
to bring to life.

Silently, there is an exchange.
Fingertips now revved with exhilaration release,
they open the protective floodgates,
opening me, poring into the pencil
and emptying on the page. Scuttling to form words.
Hurrying to keep up, desperate to keep in step with
the break-neck speed my mind forms:
Words, phrases, an anecdote.

My neat print deteriorates as I furiously rush to get everything out.
Remove my poison.
Doesn't matter what the words say, it's what they mean,
to me. that makes this magic to behold and experience.

A pause to quickly press replay.
The song putting rhythm to the flow of this desperate pencil.
These needy hands.

This is all I need right here:



Words dancing, forming a love,

so strong it will never diminish,

not in a lifetime.

A forever bond.


Music, fast and upbeat with heavy instruments

beating in my ears. Familiar sound momentarily

fades to nothing more than background

But it feeds my appetite and need

making this dance ever more intricate.

Then there are the small things, things that don't
really matter to the dance but add a bit of ... atmosphere:


A lone desk light in an otherwise dark room.

Casting distorted shadows and a dim halo,

upon the page now filled with life.


The rich scents I pick up on in a heartbeat.

An intoxicating aroma wafting from my lap.

A sweater that isn't mine,

left with traces of it's owner.


The thunderstorm rolling in,

giving it that feeling; the electricity already

antsy in the air. The rich smell of promised rain

A summer storm and the certain feelings it provides.

All the little things add to a magnificent show...
one you have just witnessed.

I delicately breathe life into this dance.
Did you enjoy the show?
Would you watch it again?
I would, everyday for the rest of my life.

The author's comments:
Process of writing kind of

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