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.