Why do words sometimes mock me?
There is color everywhere inside my brain but these rainbows can be maddening.
They shout louder than the voice of success my words have given me.
My success has been brought on by my madness, my twisted eye for this world.
It’s beautiful in a way, but leads to convulsions of the spirit.
The madness, it shakes me, and soon I am reminded that my creativity can be like an atom, so small and insignificant in one moment, then bursting with overwhelming and all consuming light in another.
This chaos leads to the twitching of skin, the sputtering of heart, the shrinking of lungs; it reminds me of the grounded bounds of my human form, one that shakes under the weight of my mind and spirit.
The chaos. It captures me in a jar with little air, daring me to breathe harder than I should, gasping for that last ounce of oxygen.
The lid closes and I shrivel for a while, suddenly dormant…but protected from the noise of existence.
But, then I am freed again once my spirit stops trying to escape; my spirit’s heist causes my brain to malfunction. Misfire.
Funny, how the brain and body can short circuit when it’s filled with too much electric purpose brought on by the spirit; but I can’t blame this spirit that was given to me, one that is too large for a body like mine.
I will rewire myself after each shrinking moment – because this body must last for the great expanse of my vision.
Even if I crumble and rebuild, yet again and again.
