Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

On the train ride home from work
I think I contracted a virus.

Airborne you see- coughed into the atmosphere
and into my lungs.
Millions of unseen particles
floating about in my system, gnawing away greedily.
Thoughts were slowly shutting down, ideas vanishing gradually.

By the time I got home,
I'd come down with it, real bad.
Sentences, fragmented. Colors of poetry, faded.
No new thoughts, no musical prose dancing about anymore.

Looked the symptoms up online-
sure enough.
Creative funktivitis.
Like a broken toe, or a diseased mind
there is no cure
but time.

So I wander about the subway systems,
secretly hoping
to find some of my recycled remnants
in the afterthoughts of some unsuspecting tourist
who didn't know she'd stolen
my inspiration.

LT
6-8-09

Lucy this is great!!!! I love it!
H

Love it too!

she stole nothing.

Love it too.

Creative funktivitis.

There ain't no cure for the summer time blues

No pill
An orphan disease

I am going to put your picture on a one gallon pickle jar with a note that says, "please contribute to eradicate C.F." Take it down to the ice house and ask the clerk to put it by the register.

Thank you for
The poem

Sentence fragments going to be the end of me.

Thank you Hes, Perdida, Truckin'...

Just a little of my madness spilling onto the cyberboards...

Truckin', I'm diggin the idea. Maybe we can scrounge a few quarters up and help the cause, as CF is spreading quite rapidly in these here parts...