Comes a flurry of doubt
The moment an idea becomes fluid
It spills onto the floor as it gushes from the spout
Will it be as good as it can be?
Or will I lose the plot?
Will I write it out
Um... rather not
And erases more th
Invariably a flow emits
From the deep grains of my mind
It's a stream of thought that rolls at times
Into the optic of my eyes
Mostly it just remains unwritten.