TumbleDweeeb

Brain fog and clarity dance together as I stare at this blank page two hours into waking and already writing ideas swirl like autumn leaves too many to catch too scattered to organize my coffee sits abandoned cooling on the desk while I lose myself in the digital river of tumblr twitter facebook pinterest collecting half fragments of wisdom and art and absurdist humor that somehow makes perfect sense in my wide awake state a banjo echos my eardrums and has become the soundtrack to my morning the fifth time I’ve heard this song so far lyrics seeping into my mood coloring my thoughts with possibility maybe I’ll post it in my motivational music maybe I won’t who knows my fingers betray me stumbling over keys backspacing to correct the misspelled words my brain moves too quickly to spell properly sounds of home filter through my awareness Kayleigh sleeping in her bedroom when did she finally drift off? I fell asleep around seven Carly shuffling to the bathroom my thoughts are a kaleidoscope shifting patterns with each rotation of attention Thursday just one more workday before the freedom of the weekend possibilities unfold hiking trails waiting to be discovered rivers calling for canoes the historic grounds of Shiloh beckoning but it’s suppose to rain and I know my canoe needs cleaning because the red mud stained the inside from the last adventure and it would be pointless to clean maybe knowing that the Alabama waters will still stain it crimson again before summer’s end but there’s something satisfying about starting fresh the clock blinks 4AM accusations work looms won’t be late never late always early I’m  on devine timing I’m already making my mental checklist gas station stops cigarettes to buy drinks and some kind of lunch my fingers twitch with anticipation a cigarette would be perfect right now I’ll indulge before my morning work routine begins the smoke curls upward as I glance at my computer screen irritating my eyes and the screen’s glow mixing with rising smoke my eyes water in protest forcing me to set everything down and rub away the irritation ten seconds of blindness then back to clarity A cough echoes from Kayleigh’s room hope she’s not getting sick we’ve made it through winter without the usual seasonal plagued winter winters almost over thank god and thank god for everything and all things known and unknown he has done and will do I used to love Michigan’s brutal embrace when I was younger but now the cold seeps deeper finding the spaces between bones making me irritated and then settling there like an unwelcome guest the second time I’ve used irritated that could be the third or the fourth it might become today’s verbal fixation word of the day there’s always one phrase or one word that loops through my consciousness becoming the day’s unofficial theme my cigarette burns down to nothing marking ten minutes of written wandering thoughts captured in digital permanence minus the ten seconds that I had to rub my irritated eye

Editing Update

Autumn leaves of thought swirl through my foggy mind,
Coffee grows cold as ideas I try to find.
Banjo melodies echo, set my mood ablaze,
While digital rivers capture my wandering gaze.
Fingers stumble on keys as words appear and fade,
Morning hours tick by, plans carefully made.
Crimson waters beckon weekend adventures near,
As smoke curls upward, making my vision blur and clear.

Imperfect Rhymes:

“my thoughts are a kaleidoscope
shifting patterns with each rotation of attention
Thursday just one more workday before the freedom of the weekend”

One Line Poems – Tweets

“Brain fog and clarity dance together as I stare at this blank page”
“Ideas swirl like autumn leaves too many to catch too scattered to organize”
“My coffee sits abandoned cooling on the desk while I lose myself in the digital river”
“A banjo echos my eardrums and has become the soundtrack to my morning”
“My thoughts are a kaleidoscope shifting patterns with each rotation of attention”
“Thursday just one more workday before the freedom of the weekend possibilities unfold”
“Rivers calling for canoes the historic grounds of Shiloh beckoning”
“The smoke curls upward as I glance at my computer screen irritating my eyes”
“Ten seconds of blindness then back to clarity”
“The cold seeps deeper finding the spaces between bones making me irritated”

Edited Version:

Brain fog and clarity dance together as I stare at this blank page. Two hours into waking, and already writing ideas swirl like autumn leaves—too many to catch, too scattered to organize. My coffee sits abandoned, cooling on the desk while I lose myself in the digital river of Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, collecting half-fragments of wisdom and art and absurdist humor that somehow makes perfect sense in my wide-awake state.
   A banjo echoes in my eardrums and has become the soundtrack to my morning, the fifth time I’ve heard this song so far, lyrics seeping into my mood, coloring my thoughts with possibility. Maybe I’ll post it in my motivational music, maybe I won’t. Who knows?
   My fingers betray me, stumbling over keys, backspacing to correct the misspelled words. My brain moves too quickly to spell properly. Sounds of home filter through my awareness: Kayleigh sleeping in her bedroom (when did she finally drift off? I fell asleep around seven), Carly shuffling to the bathroom.
   My thoughts are a kaleidoscope, shifting patterns with each rotation of attention. Thursday—just one more workday before the freedom of the weekend. Possibilities unfold: hiking trails waiting to be discovered, rivers calling for canoes, the historic grounds of Shiloh beckoning. But it’s supposed to rain, and I know my canoe needs cleaning because the red mud stained the inside from the last adventure. It would be pointless to clean, maybe, knowing that the Alabama waters will still stain it crimson again before summer’s end, but there’s something satisfying about starting fresh.
   The clock blinks 4AM accusations. Work looms. Won’t be late, never late, always early. I’m on divine timing. I’m already making my mental checklist: gas station stops, cigarettes to buy, drinks, and some kind of lunch.
   My fingers twitch with anticipation. A cigarette would be perfect right now. I’ll indulge before my morning work routine begins. The smoke curls upward as I glance at my computer screen, irritating my eyes, and the screen’s glow mixing with rising smoke. My eyes water in protest, forcing me to set everything down and rub away the irritation. Ten seconds of blindness, then back to clarity.
   A cough echoes from Kayleigh’s room. Hope she’s not getting sick. We’ve made it through winter without the usual seasonal plague. Winter’s almost over, thank God—and thank God for everything and all things known and unknown He has done and will do.
   I used to love Michigan’s brutal embrace when I was younger, but now the cold seeps deeper, finding the spaces between bones, making me irritated and then settling there like an unwelcome guest. The second time I’ve used “irritated”—that could be the third or the fourth. It might become today’s verbal fixation, word of the day. There’s always one phrase or one word that loops through my consciousness, becoming the day’s unofficial theme.
   My cigarette burns down to nothing, marking ten minutes of written wandering thoughts captured in digital permanence, minus the ten seconds that I had to rub my irritated eye.