a fumbling attempt at poetry

unprepared for the journey ahead, i sit.
sipping on my caffeinated bliss
testing one
two
three
words flow through the air painting elaborate concoctions of imagery and vocabulary in my mind.
tamed lightning rushes up a cord
spinal cord? electrical cord
the skeletal stand of the microphone enhancing my perceptions as i hallucinate
interpreting the complexity of the english language through the mind of an art major
creating in me the desire to create something more than mundane
a spark grows
years of animated loops
(the visual equivalent of prop comedy)
washed away by a new vision
the desire to design burns in my soul likening to lust
(am i art-horny?)
like the urge to smoke

or fuck

or sing or dance
rushing home at the limit of speed
hoping that my muse will linger til I reach the clicking familiarity of my keyboard

distractions
all
around

avoiding obstacles like the character in some bizarre electronic interactive story,
i rush
relieving myself in front of my cycloptic familiar
i pause
at a loss for words. now all that remains
in the dark recesses of my lust-crazed brain
is an image
that longs to come to life