Ideas

It crawls up my spine.
Through every vertebrae I can feel it.
One, two, three, it went through.
This thing that crawls up my spine.
It rests.
Right where my neck is.
It sits there.
Making the little hairs stand on end.
Does it really have this much control.
It continues through the back of my neck.
It drills into my skull.
Making one small hole.
Big enough that it can fit itself through.
These monosyllables, these words
Cannot express it.
This, this,
It.
It courses through my brain.
Swimming through all my thoughts.
Until It lodges itself somewhere
In the soft tissues of my mind.
And then.
It works.
This wonderful thing we call an idea.
One, two, three more come.
Up my spine,
Through every vertebrae,
Resting at my neck,
Making the small hairs stand,
One, two, three more,
Drill holes my skull,
Courses through my brain,
Swimming in my thoughts,
And they all take their place,
In the vast web that is my mind.
Taking a corner there, and a corner here,
And they work.
These 'its,' these ideas.
That crawl up my spine,
Like one, two, and three.