Speak to me, O Muse - - - - -
From whatever burning dumpster you inhabit
I call, I -
the fickle and sedentary one
You know, that one who abandoned you
to pant after some crafted thing, some dream
and who shall flee again, for certain
Because with every stroke of pencil
upon flawless paper
my demons saunter up - even now
my doubts sink claws in my mind -
each line
more impossible than its predecessor
until I'm bleeding out in this
paper confessional
black graphite blood
and sorry promises.
I forgot to say I love that you posted the visual picture of your writings...
ReplyDelete