Admission
Several half songs later
I stay at the type-writer: tapping
I am looking for structure, flexibility,
a stimulating blend of images
To rattle my listeners.

Too bad I come up empty

It's a shame I always crack
under the pressure of fake glass
incompletion makes a home in me
and I can't come back to health
until the books are written,
the songs are sung,
and my creations are raised effectively

But they would still act the same
as a **** stain
on haute couture..
Why pass it off as anything more?

I accept my role to be colorless, insignificant, and small
an ant can only be so tall
It is when we admit our futility
that we become a human, luminous