little glowing flakes
blissful and divine
snow glistens into my bright blue eyes
the beauty of simplicity
of a simple blank white canvas
means winter is upon us

This foggy mind,
where the mist won't cease
Opaque clouds drift
to my thoughts - the breeze
intentions unclear,
abandoned with slight fear
passions muted -
purpose is queer.
White page lies blank
Black ink is drained
the brain's an asylum
neither insane nor sane
Is this the Kingdom of Boredom?
for all empty souls & crumpled blanks
Please reach thy vibrant hands into the dump
with the glimmers of galaxies in your eyes
& drag me out of this living slump.

Am I overfilled with emptiness...?

Sometimes a paper lies in front of you
And a pen sits still in your hand
But the only thing on the paper
Are wet drops of tears
Falling from the heart

Have you ever found me in my blank poetry?
I try to write something.
But it's too hard to think.
So I left my page without ink.

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

Bit by bit,
Your calendar starts to fill again
This time it fills with things for you
You and only you

Your calendar,
It has more white than before
But now the white looks like snow
Instead of the ice from before.