Creativity Research

Subtitle: That Poem in Which I Plagiarize Song Lyrics

I forgot how to write.
I fed myself forced creativity,
rejected by peristalsis.
Losing that part of my brain where my
halfway ideas and unfinished stories reside -
would that not be the worst reply?
(it's a superpower)

Who doesn't remember those times I
attempted being "poetic" and I tried not to rely
on laudations my acquaintances showered on me
believing perhaps thine words were slick and sly...
Do I even know about rhymes?
(fifty K for a verse, no degree out)

Crowds pushing, music pulsing, everybody wants the one
in the middle.
Walls crumble in and fold inside themselves the desires they
wish could hide.
But then who am I to shove my assumptions and superfluous fives
on a population I don't comprise?
(king of anything, she said)

Ah, only now do I realize the reasons they surmised
a talent could reside in the things that they call eyes -
but mine?
Making habits, breaking requirements, unplugging styles.
(on to the next one, on to the next one)