The Writer's Ferris Wheel

Infinite cogs whirr up there
And down here in the computer: my mind's facilitator, reflector, collector of thoughts
And in a moment of easy head-pictures I call forth the churning
Halting Writer's Ferris Wheel

Pap pap pap, tak tak tak
And I chisel off bits of my soul, bare
And ripe for the plucking
Defiling by sullied hands and greedy eyes

I rise and fall in, limping in the weight of uneasy cadence
And up: all form falls away i abolish strunk and white. ee cummings on this bitch fuck the noise kill the sound let me touch sublime heat
And down: Seated and etching out words, I prostrate myself, the neophyte readied for structure and systems
Swallowing morsels of culture and history the masters have to give

Each gear shifts me
And now I fail to cauterize the wound spilling grandiloquence, my mouth
And now, apologetic, I aim to please
Cycling through my Ferris Wheel justifies my inner volatility

Why now couldn't I care less for it, the production and harsh review?
And now why won't it stop, that hum: please them, please them, please them
And so I'll shout down to him, the conductor sipping slime-drinks, hey, get this thing going again we have places to be
Posting the trot in my seat, clamoring uncultured culturer of whirring cogs, the ebbing/flowing mechanism of my mind unbridled, manned or unmanned by a stupid whim:
The Writer's Ferris Wheel