Phantom catalyst

Did anyone get the license plate number on the phantom bus that ran my brain over?

The ancient eavesdropper

Drowsy,

I nod off at the keyboard.

My subconscious pours words

I never knew existed.

Phantom poems fill vague spaces

in my dreams,

when one hole mends

another tears apart at the seams.

Cerebral chemistry shapes

my plastic mind,

twisting sensory details

to trace the plot line

which is off the charts,

zig-zagging to confuse 

and catalyze.

Daylight bleeds through the blinds,

warm rays resting on my neck

and skipping towards my eyes.

I awake under

the weight 

of recollection 

and heavy sighs.

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About tyler4turtles

I am an avid photographer, poet, ecologist, bookworm, blogger, art enthusiast and runner who calls Montana home but lives in Oregon.
This entry was posted in Humor, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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