Impromptu

I feel the itch to write
for quite some time now
inspirations pass like thin clouds
the weather changes and how!

As I look outside
not be consumed by the self again
Give the thoughts some rest
No more equations of loss and gain.

As it builds up inside me
and I try to find a vent
Run, walk or just crawl
the feeling of being all so spent.

So I don't think now
what purpose has it served anyways
the plans, the images and the works
and reality's many ways!

No I don't want to word it
No I don't want to share
Words are an approximation at best
Why may you even care!

Yet in words I find my respite
Impromptu as they say
no more white boards and rough drafts
no more planning the way.

I feel the need to go
and to not take along
leave all that has been
and play to the flowing song.

All forms now collapse
I see no rhythm or rhyme
not even in these words I write
not even they are mine.