In an attempt to draw out the scenes
I find myself unable to think
of a worthy vessel for true means,
of how to make sense of this new ink.
My dreams shine clear through infrequent sleep,
each action and wish mere thoughts away.
Yet open eyes draw dark doubts that creep
and reign through all hours of my day.
I wish for profound sounds to carry
each person to pure rapture and bliss,
but more weights strengthen on top of me,
and render brief happiness amiss.
My sole desire rests in others,
to move the way notes in me vibrate,
through my own loud message that covers
all ways to make feelings resonate.
Now I curse how long my tongue's been dry,
unable to assert its substance.
I never throw words that haunt in lie,
which reasons my constant reluctance.
Someday my lines will be more than lines,
but emotions that reverberate.
My inner self that tries and defines
all my actions as more than just fate.

September 4th, 2011