Stolen genius

Jesse Peterman

I drifted in like a candle on a tortoise’s back

For I have come to burgle my own mind

Honeyed words sweet like christmas greetings, The nettle-like sting of wit

Disarming scent of approachability, swept into a bottle

The echo of my silent steps present in the disturbed dust

Moving slowly,

With deliberate pace, So as not to wake the inhabitants

The silence weighs heavily, Like the phrase "We need to talk"

I must finagle genius from a pedestal too high to reach Simple creativity lying on the floor beside, yet coveted as much

If I am caught, the mind will shine no more

Empty cases, shelves, and racks, dusty from disuse

Imprints of missing traits, stolen by predecessors

The luminescent snowflakes of discarded ideas drift like dust motes I stand in my unconscious, lost as a map at home

I’ll be up soon, waking as if none of this happened

I’ll be wealthy with all I’ve taken, And leave my self destitute, Ruined and rich