Flowery Fishbowl Poetry
Caught within a dream,
repeating thoughts swirling around eddies
like a lost fish swimming in circles,
stuck in his fishbowl.
These ideas want to control me,
but I won’t let this cloud
of flowery romanticism catch me,
even though the side effects
of writing sappy poetry
in scripted handwriting
has already set in.
Then in a moment of lucidity
the poem is carefully and elegantly
scribbled out,
almost in regret of having to do so
but the idea is already there.
My efforts of avoiding these ideas
have been ruined
by writing them down once more.
This is the vicious cycle of a single lover
attempting to breathe underwater
alone.
