Reflex

A reflection on a flexing.

Hi!

It is Friday.

Here is a poem:

Jumpy? 

Wound in the webbing of text,
its words, its world,
its reality presented to me.
I was entrapped, stuck in
the silky proteins of dense
paragraphs full of sweet
smelling smilies threading
nectar nouns and bright 
petalled adjectives, luring
me into full acceptance of 
the vision beheld in 
my mind until,
in the corner of my eye,
I sensed the presence
of a shaking, silhouetted form.
In the reflexive spasm that followed,
the web was destroyed,
the world met its apocalypse,
and I returned to my body
seated by a quiet window,
my hoodie’s drawstring,
the angel of destruction,
its beady knot, a bobbing 
bowl of wrath. 

In wordy wordiness,

Walter