WIP: Flow

Fingers fly like chorus line legs
and words emerge from abstract eggs
of thought; instructions
the machine is keen to obey

time disappears in the moment of flow

Twirling like dancers on comfortable chairs
legs wither while the mind dithers
between airy construction
and the pragmatic way

Whole realms appear by the terminal’s glow

Voices like saws-against-sheet-metal screams
rip the mind’s petals, bind dreams
behind flat reflections
of the concerns of the day

In rushes time, away the worlds go.


Inspired, in part, by this comic