it's already been written myriad-
the elusive verse,  
felt numerous
by others
dimensions parallel to mine

it's why we do
it isn't
it?

but what of
the depleted word bank?
slowly drained like blood so
precious with only
silver floating plasma left
ethereal, just synonyms and
consonants still clinging
to the edges of the canister


what will I say-
when nothing else remains?