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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/975477
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#975477 added April 25, 2020 at 2:19pm
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Idle Thoughts
Idle Thoughts

Idle Pursuit and Time Machinations

I have a thought. I want to speak it
into existence, in the air between us.
The fan blades slice molecules,
silent re-assimilation about my ears.
But those fan blades hold dust
from Krypton. Someone would have to
turn off the power to inspect, decide:
Mix a bucket with chemicals or simply
use anti-bacterial wipes to daub clean?

My yet to exist thought will wait until
I've slowed time, gears of machination,
to consider phraseology and
the right time to utter my notion.
Your eyes dull yellow in this fading light.
I know you could crush me, too.

Speak this thought into existence,
While I remove the blades; one by one,
unscrewed, delivered to a bath in the sink
to scrub? How long has it been? I must
put each cleansed wing, inspected and
delivered, to a dry towel, then view
a gritty sink I should scour next.

I think about political correctness, if
I've fully grasped societal norm, avoid
shame from speaking like a racist old man,
uncouth. The white arms return
to their house, bolted securely, as I wonder
about your quiet. Not a word. Alone
like me, couched in distraction. Housework
and games and freedom of speech. No
freedom from humming on high, or the hungry
refrigerator, sucking ampules, too. When

will I speak thoughts into shared reality; daunted,
knowing you've said, you know my every story?
You've critiqued every word uttered. The sink
is where my head will go next. The minutes
to night you don't count, drain in my idle pursuit.



Head Like A Hole
Nine Inch Nails
'Black as your soul'

For:
"The Soundtrack of Your Life

© Copyright 2020 He’s Brian K Compton (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
He’s Brian K Compton has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/975477