Aggravation, frustration
a rushed morning
almost no time.
A voice that drives.
No, not in the mind's eye,
right there in your ears
cold and fast.
Stare out the window
but only for a moment.
Rushed words on a page,
the hand is cramped,
the arm, burning.
it's too slow,
words always flow faster.
Hearing them,
Rushing then,
losing them, sometimes,
to other words on the page
the best words gone,
forever.
The river flows
and a mind runs through it.