on the floor

I've moved out of my bed and 

onto the floor.

More room for the thoughts to blossom

and boom like fireworks and celebration guns,

illuminating the night and 

forcing you from your bed.

You dash to the windows and

see the sparks rain down.

The sparks never land, you know.

They dissipate just moments before 

the ground takes shape. 

They stay, 

hovering in space,

crawling in the air,

dancing in your dreams 

like the sugarplums 

in your youth. 

I spread myself onto the floor

and watch the sparks above my head.

They tickle my nose,

a loose ember catching in my hair,

setting it ablaze. 

Undulations, tribulations, tabulations,

formulations of forever and a day. 

Formulations of a single moment,

then twenty,

then a stream of consciousness 

spilling out onto the pages.

It's two in the morning

and I'm out of bed 

and on the floor,

laying in a garden of words,

watching the stars fall to Earth.

via *