To wit, I ramble

Sometimes my words come pouring out
without me knowing why
like a dog that howls all night
at the moonless sky.

And when I try to stop their flow
by shutting up my trap,
they build and bang and multiply
til I can’t hold them back.

It’s like an endless music
that plays without a tune:
some lyrics that we all heard wrong
writ by some blathering loon.

Published by dreysleeps

I art and eat and draw and sleep and cry and rhyme. I consume too much pizza and—by all rights—should be dead, but I haven't gotten around to it. Procrastination saved my life.

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