Waiting for the Moment

I am the

Procrastinator’s

Procrastinator

The Queen of Waiting

Until the last possible second

Addicted

To the racing heart

The pressing worry

Of exceeding

Expected

Limits

Of my own lack

I know what to do

The dysfunction

Distracts

My hands

My flow focused

On tumbling words

Creating is never the problem

Harnessing myself

Is harder

Than catching a wild horse

With nylon rope

One day...

I tell myself

Knowing it is fruitless

My plan

Is always met

With the Self

Destruction

Of what feels like

Self-preservation

Though I often wonder

Why I bother

With time at all

It is seemingly

Pointless

When I can spend hours

Forgetting to eat

Painting with words

Or chasing music

Deep into my

Waiting guitar strings

I thought my children would

Center me

But it turns out

Big Creatives

Tend

To birth

Little Ones

So now

My home is a special club

For honouring odd requests

At all hours

To watch and to listen

So welcome

I am now both the

Captivated audience

And the performer