What are you gonna do now?
It's a rational question.
My pen taps on the lips of infinite imagination.
I think for a while,
A pause to catch my breath,
to catch that butterfly thought with my tongue.

I'm going to explore new worlds.
I'm going to mend those wretched fences
I'm going burn the ancient bridges.
I'm going to sob out incandescence
And laugh out all of my stolen ribs.
I'm going to rob banks of joy
And murder the blackened wraiths.
I'm going to remove shiny polish
and wipe down windows with alcohol.

I'm going to let someone undeserving have my heart
I'm going to do things I'm ashamed of.
I'm going to delight over someone's mistakes
and not when they do the same to me.
I'm going to the movies.
I'm going to school.
I'm going to the hospital.
I'm going to vomit.

I'm going to give birth to some invisible birds
And kiss the headstones of their loss.
I'm going to love someone with all of my soul.
And they will love me too.
I'm going to feel cuts and bruises and scrapes.
I'm going to be abused and broken.
I'm going to be loved and cherished.
I'm going to be told I've changed someone's life.
I'm going to be threatened.

I'm going to paint my room a hideous shade of green.
I'm going to have to deal with my idiocy.
I'm going to cry on someone's shoulder, neck, and lap.
I'm going to walk in the rain.
I'm going to have colds and swollen throats.
I'm going to make soup.
I'm going to make cookies.
I'm going to make a mess.
I'm going to make amends.

What are you gonna do now?
It's a rational question.
My pen scratches down an answer for better or for worse.
While my heart pumps and I feel Raggedy-Ann simple.
I catch my breath.
I catch my existence in a sentence.

What are you gonna do now?

I'm going to write.