poetry, writing

In Motion

In motion,

The nights aren’t so cold,

And I am thinking,

Putting together the

Ideas into marks,

On paper

Zeroes and ones,

Working towards

Goals and finding joy,

Along the way,

Craving sweetness,

But I practice

Delayed gratification,

Seeking the space,

To think and connect,

Bold enough to fuck up,

Over never risking at all,

A student with a deadline,

Imposed upon myself,

Back into the warm,

Before the cold steals,

My fingers ability,

To dance with the words,

A tango,

A drugged grind,

Yet indomitable,

In answering the call,

To dance but now,

I walk in,

Coffee and air blue

Thick with smoke,

So, freed at last,

I begin to write.



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