Blinks

The cursor blinks,
or was it a wink?
An all-knowing presence

who knows a little
too much.

Words fight
for their spot
on the page,

a jumbled mass
on its way
to
the
grave.

A cacophony

of pain
waiting its turn
so impatiently.

So many things
and yet not enough

to exit my brain
still a diamond
in
the
rough.

Synapses fire
like a loaded gun

leaving smoke
and a victim

in their wake.

And still,

a cursor blinks.

© Autumn Siders 2017
Blinks

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