Linear

I think in lines, not twisted nor intertwined,
Just spokes of a bicycle lacking serpentine.

And sometimes they go round and round,
long virgin path they're bound,
But never become circles.

I suppose clock hands, each tick's pass slight and narrow,
are just another use for an archer's arrow.

And bamboo shoots turned to chopsticks,
never knew they'd become use for rice and noodle lockets.

It's not always so bad, thinking in lines.
Like stems of lilies or Chinese eyes.

But be warned, line thinker,
each Arial I is another tally strike
on the side that says "Mind Dying."

Author's note: I just need to get this off my chest - This is the first thing I've written in over a year. All of my classes are in science and math so I can never find the right head space to just write (hence the poem, Linear). I feel like I've traded creativity for the sake of problem solving. This came to me while I was on the brink of sleep. It's not great, but god it feels good to finally read and write poetry again. Anyways, just...thanks for listening.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/443afp/wine_and_lust/czqosef

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/449y0o/spring_break_2014/czqob0r