Flowers bloom
In the garden
Of my mind,
Filling my imagination
With a menagerie
Of ideas,
Each a frenzied animal
Begging for release
From its cage.
I can barely
Breathe,
The excitement of
A future story
Still unwritten
Intoxicating
Every fiber
Of my frenetic being.
I lust for a pen and paper,
A keyboard beneath
My eager fingers,
As a recovering alcoholic
Yearns to have a
Chilled bottle of Chardonnay,
Or a wine glass
Brimming with brandy,
In their clammy hands.
But, alas!
I must control my urges,
Strong as they may be.
Sleep is essential right now.
But I know
It’ll be hours
Before my mind
Agrees to rest.
My tired body
Begs for slumber,
But it cannot be heard
Over the howling
Of the savage beasts
Finding refuge
In my synapses.
Ideas, whims, fantasies
Overtake every neuron,
Each screaming at me
With its own voice
Distinct and unique.
They plead for freedom
On screen
Or paper.
I try desperately
To silence them, to
Persuade the demons
To settle in
Until the
Approaching morning.
But they will not
Go gently.