The screen is blank
Waiting for an input.
I sit there and ponder; thing after thing.
I give in and move, pressing key after key.

Fingers moving ever so carefully,
Pressing keys as if the movements are watched by crowds.
Hours and hours later, it is finally done.
The screen is blank

There I lay in the middle of a room with 4 walls and a light staring straight right at me. Glaring like it want to say something but there was no sound. Then I laugh, its funny because even for a second there I really thought that , the light would tell me something. After a while I can hear a familiar sound, It was rain hitting the roof. Again it felt like it was saying something and yet again I started to laugh for there was no voice and i'm fooling myself how could rain tell me something. For hours I never stop staring at the ceiling with a blank thought, not even thinking of anything. Then I realized its dark, I'm pretty sure the light was on a little while back and no one had entered the room to turn it off. In my mind i'm sure its a blackout but i'm comfortable to where I lay. I didn't bothered to check. Now I'm staring at ceiling again but there was no light. The light that has been glaring at me  earlier.  It was pitch black. The darkness seemed to be telling me something yet in my head. Is still blank state. Then there was silence the rain have stop. It was so silent that I can hear my heart beating and even my breathing. The silence was absolutely deafening. I was scared I don't know why, as I feel the room getting and getting smaller in the darkness. The silence starts to hurt. I'm getting flash backs of my past, all of those memories sink in,  in a flash. Now i'm truly scared. I tried to move but my body wont. I tried to scream but theres only whispers coming out my lips. The silence I was experiencing was truly different and the darkness was a new. Then I heard it. Loud and clear. It struck me and then I realized. What was the message. Then a lighting flashed, then the lights turned on. Thunders roared then it broke the silence. I just immediately stood up. Look at the clock, it was already 3 am, Then I said to myself what a good day to LIVE.

I love the oppritunity that comes with a blank canvas
White
Blank
And then I have all these colors to choose from to bring it to life!

Which ones will I choose?

Sod the fumigated thoughts
that were meant to be
                           reflected upon.

My original attention couldn't
be spayed upon, like it was
              cockroaches of originality.

I'll crawl upon every blank lyric,
that seeds every page with my
                         worded heart beat.

Never can my words be confided
to the delusions of others
                      repetitive replications.

Often,
Words elude expression
And on pages blank,
No ink splashes emotion.

Often,
Words refuse to materialize.
And when parched lips part,
No secrets elicit nourishment
To the bleeding heart.

Often,
Colours play hide and seek.
And inside bland lives,
Never do hearts find a reason to beat and beat and beat.

But often,
Expression survives without the crutches of words.
And even the blankness of pages
Become evidence for the empty hollowness gnawing inside.

But often, blurred words escape the rhizome of parched lips
As they quiver and quiver in hopelessness and speak a tongue of their own.

But often,
Bland lives fail to seek colours and remain bland
Their world turns into a living coffin
While the dead caravan of numerous bones breathlessly goes on and on and on.

Blanks.
Wasted parts of space.
Lost in thought and in uses;
a blank canvas without any muses.