8 Minutes To Write Whatever I Want

I have eight minutes to write this piece.
Where do I start?
I make a few lines,
blah blah blah,
but does it mean something?
Where am I going?
Ah! Too many thoughts!
Seven minutes now.
Tick tock, tick tock.
My mind is a blank slate
and I have the tools to paint,
but there's no color yet.
I need to mix them together.
Stir, stir.
It smells like paint in here now.
Six minutes.
I'm starting to broaden my mind.
It expands like Tao,
inward and outward,
birthing everything in the universe.
Is that where ideas come from?
The eternal fluctuation of nothing?
Five minutes.
I'm typing fast. So many thoughts.
So many ideas flowing through
my skull, cracking its membrane.
Four minutes.
Wow, it took me that long?
Only four minutes to write it all?
Who says that's all of it, though?
Who says I'm done here?
This is looking a bit lengthy,
should I go on?
Three minutes.
I'm feeling the pressure of time.
It's pumping my heart with strong hands.
Maybe it's the music I'm listening to.
Change it up, right-o!
We're good to fly now!
Two minutes.
This is getting exciting!
I could tell you everything!
The sparkling water beside me fizzles.
My keyboard clicks as I tap it.
I wrote that sentence with one hand, ha-ha!
One minute.
59 seconds.
50 seconds.
Will it ever end?
Will my hands ever stop going?
I'm racing at a speed unknown to me.
My mind is too boggled to remember
what it was that inspired me,
but I'm letting my hands take over
and they're doing the job just right.
I'm not worried about how this will turn out
because it's coming from me
and I'm not even thinking about it.
I'm not looking down
because I refuse to.
I'll always look up.
0 minutes.
Gotta go! It was a good ride
while it lasted.