Spring Cleaning

Verbal diarrhea from eight years back - an attempt to deal with built up frustration. I found this sitting in my drafts, and thought, "Eh, why not!"

Spring Cleaning

The unexpected happiness
The perplexing downs
Is it really a wonderful world?
Did Armstrong truly believe that?
Does he now?
Things are always changing
You like it or you don't
Sometimes you don't even know
Time turners don't exist
If one did, I'd turn back to all the times my mind was blank
It is seldom blank now
Sleep seems to help, but never permanently
Just when you think it's over
It's back again, peeking over your shoulder
You feel too small; your throat constricted
Not a clue what's going on inside your head
Wishing you could have it all figured out
The dream couldn't have been farther
Worse yet is when you don't dream
A million directions
Yet moving in circles
You wish you could fly off on a tangent and soar deep into the sky
Only, even in your dreams you seem stuck to the ground
You could easily break the rules
But you don't seem to want to
Is this what's called a rut?
There definitely is a longing
An unformed shape without name
The insanely happy moods
The equally insane sadness
The despair
Too hard to cry out loud
It would only sound crazy
Instead writing seems to help
So write away
Write away all your weirdness
There, I said it, WEIRDNESS
The lines keep gushing like someone cut the carotid
Write away the poisonous ink
And maybe you'll get a chance to get back on track
To be that little ray of sunshine that you are still acting like
Write away the darkness
Its place is here in this jumble, with the thoughts that don't make much sense
You want to be peaceful again
You want to go back to that vague, moderate happiness
You don't like the pendulum; the extremes that it can touch
You'd like back your sanity
Yes
Vomit
Vomit till it all comes out
The writing won't be pretty, but that isn't what this is about
What this is, is comforting a disturbed child
A rocking of the cradle
A soothing lullaby
Lull your mind back to good dreams
Lead it back to the calm
It may or may not budge
Never mind, still worth a try
Writing, writing
Writing and writing
Writing and writing and writing and writing
Not giving the metre a f***
This will never sound nice
So it's okay to make it worse
Make it worse
Remove it from your head
Better here than between your ears
Write away
Draw out the alien thoughts
There's much cleaning left still to do.

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