Stuck in the space
behind your ear
I become inspired
My pink thinking hat
is brimming with ideas
Pushing and Shaking
In this prison
Behind your ear
And you curse
As I crash to the floor
You wrap your fingers
around my hexagon shape
Wondering how I escaped you
You tuck me into
Your fiery red pony-tail
I've become un-movable
Plugging myself into your mind
Allowing my inspiration
To be yours
Your eyes light with color and
You reach for me behind your ear
But I am not there
You waste precious seconds searching
When I am nestled in your hair
By the time I am discovered
The inspiration is gone
From both of us,
You, the poet
And I, the pencil.
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2 comments:
I totally know how this goes. You've got this idea in your head and then YOU CAN'T FIND A FREAKING PENCIL and then it turns out it was right there, the whole fucking time. DAMNIT!
Anyhoo, I think this is awesome, but again, I think you use the words "I" and "My" a little too often. It might flow a little bit better if you try to replace them or cut them out, or something like that.
okayyy. :)
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