its like when i was a child, <br />digging deep craters, <br />in the sand, <br />sweating through my sensitive skin, <br />only then the sea would wash in, <br />and the hole begin to fill up again, <br /> But now as an adult it is not the <br />hole that is forever filling up, <br />no matter how often i emptied it, <br />no, now it is my mind, <br />now i empty my thoughts, <br />splashing them out onto a page, <br />poems, poems streams, <br />and reams of words, <br />for a fleeting second, <br />the mind is empty, <br />and still, just resting, <br />then within the movement <br />of the hands on the clock, <br />it begins to fill all over again, <br />every emotion mixed together, <br />in the melting pot of my mind, <br />an endless motion, <br />of emptying and filling, <br />filling then emptying, <br />even at night, <br />when dreams and nightmares, <br />fight for the right to air there show, <br />the poems never ever slow.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poems-like-a-child-digging-a-hole-in-the-san/
