Flashes Outside My Chambers

Flashes outside my corridor annoy me
Here I am, partaking in my hums of enrichment,
small glimmers just barely enough to light my immediate surroundings
just how I like it

But the flashes...
Thank god for the flashes
Never letting me forget

The four walls,
the cells of my confinement,
engulf myself for days until I realize that
food hasn't touched upon my lips,
the weights haven't forced the lids upon my pupils
but I'm still at full throttle
And the only focus is where the monitor
diverts my eyes as I trade this thing for that
Tweak this flaw with this
Trade this potential masterpiece
for a new idea because it simply won't fit

To me, it's a story brewing
An art in midst creation...
Every spec
Every detail
Even the ones they won't pay attention to
It's nothing to do with credit
Or the ability to point to my chest and shout at the top of my lungs

“THIS IS MY WORK!”

No, that's all trivial.
I'm so engulfed in the process
that I can't help but to itch when this curve is here
when it shouldn't be
or that this texture is rough when it should be smooth
that these lines are straight and should be jagged
or that this function does this and could incorporate that

And I frequent the path pendulum of chamber
Zoning out, seeking a new idea to continue shifting to the tiles outside my void
And there's always the flash
Casting it's glimmer through the small crevice of my shade
Ringing in the corner of my peripherals
as I pace by my bedside
constantly bringing me to the center
as I drift off toward the edge
reminding me of the abstract,
the two way street that
goes to both ambivalence and bliss,
a symphony that's two phases of beautiful
and eight parts of agonizing
But to relish in the euphoria of the potential atmosphere,
I'd take that lust of adrenaline even if it plunged me
into the pith of my heart again and again

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed