blank slate
10-28-2015
The clean paper
seduces me; beckoning the
words
that will not come.
High hopes and
yet-
Here I am,
salivating at the thought of
expression with
no means through which
to express myself.
This lust for words
This self-consuming passion
This anger for what is not
This hunger that eats at my being
This curse of unintelligible rambling
And here you are!
Calling for my words,
those nonexistent entities
that live too far
from my grasp,
Tempting me with
empty lines
and promises of eloquence.
I yield only hollow skeletons
Of ideas
That perish
In the fervor.