My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness

Hums, hums like the background music

Like a kazoo being played by a child

The child I once was, maybe, back when i could play a harmonica

Knew the words to every Taylor Swift song

That was the poetry of my youth

We were both young when I first you

Close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing there, on a balcony in summer air, see the lights, see the party, the ball gowns…

But she was lyrics and I wrote poetry too in my youth

I write as though a quarter century isn't still youth

As though the fears weighing me down are anything…

Scraps of madness, I have plenty to spare

Just, no take backs if you decide what madness was taken was too much

No rest for the wicked, after all

And I long for sleep.

Take some of my scraps, the mind will replenish them in dreams

maybe good writing will break free tomorrow