I Don't Want to Write

I don't want to write tonight.
I want to dream without work;
flow without effort through
glistening metaphors
I don't have to craft.

I don't want the work
of twisting life into words
that make the world new.
No perfect symbols for modern society
and corruption and a paradise lost.

No pointless symbols
about broken rooftops
that are huge cymbals
for the elderly, rocking chairs
of our souls in slow motion.

No sublime lines in time and rhyme
that chimes of dimes that grind
in slime from crimes
of primed mimes in line
at grimy, blimey chinese buffets.

No planned
        line breaks
and    fake spaces        to break speech
            of written blurbs
as though    words need that kind of
                                help.

No, I don't want to write tonight.
But it wouldn't be right to let desire
keep chained a wonder of life,
considerations of chrysanthemums,
and the need for heart songs to be freed.

So fine. All right. I'll write.