My Pen Is Poised Above the Paper...

By
my pen is

poised above
the paper.

waiting.
the blank white

void
penetrates my thoughts.

it cracks a hole in my

brain.
a trickle of words

drips


down.
splashes of images

land
ink spots stain.

why?

creativity oozes
out my ears, crawls

from beneath my


skin.
my fingernails itch,

hands tremor.

how?

an overflow of scenery
dribbles from the

brimming mind.
it rushes in through my

eyes,
out through my

nerves.

energy buzzes around my

head.
flustered. hand

cramp!
eraser marks smear.

not that...



this.





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