Blank pages and blank walls
follow me
begging to be written on
"Give us art!"
But I have nothing to say to them
so I walk away .
But they call anyway .
Pressured
I pick up the pen and begin to write.
Unsatisfied still when I'm done
I step back...
as they read
they realize what I wrote isn't poetry,
its insanity.
So they shout, they scream
and still they follow me
until I paint lies with words
and print them deep in the cracks of the forgotten yesterday
to fill the blank space.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Blank pages and blank walls
follow me
begging to be written on
"Give us art!"
But I have nothing to say to them
so I walk away .
But they call anyway .
Pressured
I pick up the pen and begin to write.
Unsatisfied still when I'm done
I step back...
as they read
they realize what I wrote isn't poetry,
its insanity.
So they shout, they scream
and still they follow me
until I paint lies with words
and print them deep in the cracks of the forgotten yesterday
to fill the blank space.
