I don't like lulls in time

Because lulls mean
Boredom

Because boredom means
Words

Because words mean

Words are mean

They cut and rip and tear and have jagged lines between the lines like

Jack the Ripper

Mysteries unsolved

I'd rather with mysteries unsolved

Because mysteries mean
Thinking

Because thinking means

No words

Slouching at a dusty table
By the company of a candles light
There is a lonely writer
But he has no words to write

Plots and characters in his mind
Seem to escape his fingertips
Most likely they were washed away
By the whiskey on his lips

In the dim room he stays
Staring into space
The paper waiting in his typewriter
As blank as the expression on his face

He sits and smokes
Upon his withering cigar
While he weeps inside his head
Wondering where the words are

Hop on a plane
Leave the past
For the skies above

Would I keep sane
Would unfortunes last
In war and peace and love

Watch out for rain
In accurate forecast
The world comes in halves

It waxes and wanes
The moon in skies vast
The light I cannot have

Is a poem
also a short story
but in a language
of a different complexion
about life
in every unique facet
and phase
its mystery, poignancy
its joys and tears
its sorrows and tragedy?

Every poem then
is a plot
the poet charts
his territory
where man looks
at himself, at others
at the world and universe
in awe and wonder
in fear and terror
in clarity or ambiguity-
the human heart
he explores
nothing escapes
his unflinching scrutiny-

verily
a poem
is a short story.