I'm giving my mind away,
In little bits and precious pieces,
With the things I say!

Initially aimless, awkwardly conceived
Often hurried, admittedly naive
sometimes incomplete trains
of my thoughts and impressions
don't instantly transform into coherence

Quickly, help me, I can't seem to clot them.
The devil words, that are born in a rush.
Too alive! They clutch and drag
and convey my just-borns away.

Gushing, oozing , struggling
the letters seep out of me. Bleeding me
dry of opportunity,
to just stay still.
And perhaps even dwell a little
Longer?.

Long enough to introduce myself.
Too late , they are gone.

And I'm left standing there
staring after my run-aways,
[stamped, in retrospect, definitively : Mine!]
the orphaned parent,
betrayed and unsure
but aware of clocks ticking
and creativity leaking
slowly out of her.

Wondering where,
and whether, to begin again.