If I were to create a new story
I would start over
I would go back in time
And fix my regrets
All the lies
All the mistakes
If I were to create
I would loose myself
The chaos and disorder
That created who I am
Maybe I'll never understand
That we're all just part of a plan
But that would take away
From the universe's mysteries
The ones that we all seek
The ones that we all hope to find
But will never achieve

Blank but not quite blanc,
Taunting me with possible ideas
Of what to etch and curve and carve
Into plaster and paint.

Torn scraps curled up into *****
Of perfect things
That are flawed
When put together.

I want to look right
To view it when I wake,
Like it the first time
I saw Munch.

I want to look right
Without a need to change and alter and edit
The leaf out of place
Or the cigarette in Oscar's hand.

I want it to look right,
Stand with hands on hips,
And proudly leave marks on my clothes
From palms blackened with acrylic.