Poetry Is Infectious

I held a piece of poem in the palm of my mind I was just trying to warm my unsettled psyche I was unconsciously holding it tighter than I thought And it stung me on the protruded aspect of my mental framework Injecting a thousand litres of ink into my unsuspecting stream of consciousness From that moment I was under the influence of an unknown substance I couldn't hold my thoughts in the bowl of my head As they slipped into the realm of imagination Puncturing the thin layer of reality with ease I was led into the chamber of secrets Every thought was beaming with excitement As I reluctantly opened the door Into the realm of mystery The house of poetry Embracing the light I was inside the gallery of poems And my mind was ecstatic My heart stood in total silence As my body was undressed of all the reality And my spirit was submerged into the insane subconscious world of poetry ©