The Pen
The pick up the pen;
The put it down again
(That sunken feeling, nemesis or friend?)
The pen. The Pen.
The pacing, the pressing up against
The period. Stop stopping
Again. Pick it up to put it down.
Pointless. Pshaw.
Please.
Please me simplicity. C’mon!
C’mon pen lemme pick it up
And put something down.

I’ll plagiarize the flow for a few words of my own.
I’m looking for inspiration from the great beyond.
My muse is missing.
I know the medium is a constraint.
I know inside
The set of symbols paints
Me into a corner.  The parameters
Of my pen’s head worn out. I’m ******. The metaphors
Pressed. The pen is second-guessed.

A literate piece of poetic license,

The defense mechanism
Against the prison I impose.
Me, myself, and I inside
The pen pining for a purpose.
The nexus of picking it up and putting it down
Is perplexing me, is vexing
Me like a sticky keyboard key.
So, I’m putting it all down
With the pen.

The pen.
The picking it up: who cares?
The putting it down: pensive prohibition.
The picking up; what I left out.
The putting it down: polygraph precision.
The picking up where I left off:
The putting it down: priority, what’s left of me.
The picking it up, when I don’t even know
Why I bother?
The putting it down: passion
The putting it down: plea of let me be.  
The putting it down periscope; I’m diving under  
The pressure’s mounting; I’m down for the counting on my muse
To bring me back
From that inky black abyss once again
My personal sonar is
Probing the depths, of what lies
hidden within
the pen.

A truth derived
out of the last armful of days:
“the heart just don’t quit.”
Despite the whole of it,
I stop dreaming each morning
to the beat of my own—
a soft, rhythmic reminder
that I’m still here;
still here
with breath to waste
if I wish.

Always there for the
Beeb she cares for,
Coolcatcoolio and
**** well said so's.
Everyone stops to stare,
For she always walks and talks with flare.
Giant heart keeps her awake,
Holds on tight to loves she makes.
Insightful and delightful,
Justifiably spiteful.
Kinda naïve--
(Less than hard to believe).
Mean to no one but,
No one knows that much.
Only I know this trait,
People don't stick around and wait.
Quite a classy looking dork, with
Sarcasm galore.
Tingly feelings she gives
Underneath my skin.
Very nostalgic
With every moment.
eXciting and fun,
You know she's the one.
Zany and brainy and bright as the sun.

This is her,
to me.

Do you love me
       Or do you not?
You told me once,
        But I forgot.