Spinning abstracts rising off my thoughts,
evaporating before it hits the air.
No weights to ground me to the floor,
so magnify the view, before I stare.
Fluttering beats, if a beat at all,
crawling skin with tremorous touch,
hyperventilating panic attacks, and
carefully suspicious of bad luck.
Such a feeling moods me locked,
my pen is the key to imprint,
hooking abstracts on this paper,
and releasing energy less spent.
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