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Red Addiction

Poetry By: Amy Saleh
Poetry



Ideas don't ask permission or knock before they come. They may come at the least expected of times, but with most creative people, ideas often jolt you out of your sleep and the fever remains until the idea is recorded. Creativity can't be given an appointment or called on demand. When it stirs... seize the moment and bring it to life


Submitted:Apr 21, 2007    Reads: 240    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Red Addiction

By Amy Saleh

blood flowing from the heart

coursing through miles of arteries

rushing to the head in a noxious

stampede of ideas

racing for attention

my eyes opening with a start

in the dead of the night

a solution to a problem

a brainstorm intense and glowing

with bolts of red lightening

compelling me out of bed

switching on my computer

lights remaining off

only the red light of the computer

the sounds of it stirring out of sleep

the light turning green

yet my mind a crimson tempest

churning...exploding

words spilling out through my fingers

as they type frantically

the labor sending chills to my spine

red hot glowing sparks

tears rolling down

my cheeks red, hot and wet

with emotions of many colors

feelings of relief and sadness at once

shaking me out of my trance

�shrieks of cats outside

territorial or violated

red seeping into my eyes

burning with hunger for sleep

and thirst for more red thoughts

jolting me out of bed each night

the birth of ideas

in the dead of the night

bloodshot gazes is the afterglow

when the dead rise

to the daily breadwinning

carrying my tools of trade

my head with strain

rushing through red traffic lights

i lay bare my soul

clad by a dull tired aura

the fruits of my imagination

changing, brightening lives

leaving me drained, colorless

hungry for some shuteye

yet waiting for the night to come

with foreboding eminence

of red hot streaks

of thoughts that send

red bolts and send

me floating towards the edge

of consciousness and beyond

�a fickle line decides where end

absolute and abstract thoughts begin

trapped in my red addiction

to thinking in the wee hours

blood flowing from the heart

coursing through miles of arteries

rushing to the head in a noxious

stampede of ideas

racing for attention

my eyes open with a start

d�j� vu

� Amy Saleh. January 18 2007. All rights reserved





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