the dance of the ink riddled fingers

these little nervous

Posted in the poet-tree, thought spills by enisea on 07/04/2010

These little nervous breaths overtake me more.
I fidget, I look around.
I yearn for sleep – yet overindulging satisfies little.
What was yesterday? It is not enough today.
I am so hungry. I am so hungry and my soul tries devouring every little…
These little nervous.

Life is not a museum.
I went to one this afternoon – and wished it was bigger and the exhibitions, more numerous.
My stages are not photogenic nor are they static.
These little nervous. 
Promises and wanting excellence is leaving me with: these little nervous. 
Greedy eyes try to overcompensate my starved imagination.
I feel so little. But feelings are stupid and very dramatic.

I am rich but I act poor because I don’t know how much my possessions are worth.
I need you now. I need you now.
I’ve never needed your smile more than today.
A little nervous smile.
To calm these little nervous thoughts.

If this is poetry then I am confused.
If you are with me, I am not alone.


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