I am incapable of writing
So don't try to convince me that  
I possess countless poetic ideas.

Because at the end of the day,  
I see only failures in every attempt.  
And I'm not about to lie by saying that  
each setback helps me along.

Because no matter what,  
                        I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity.                        
And I am in no position to believe that  
true inspiration dwells within me.

For even in my darkest musings,  
Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?

Sit quietly now
and look
beyond the page

the blurs
outside the lines
and patterns
shape the hours
in our days

gently shade my creamy skin
in creases, tints and hues

creating a colorful universe

just a crayon
me and you

I speak through the vast expanse of the galaxy,
Weaving polysemy into intricate syllables
That resonate with a seismic force in their arrhythmic vibratos.
These interlocking fabrics envelop the entirety of sound,
Creating a harmonious tapestry of auditory experiences.

I want to feel your heart strings
Like a plucked guitar
The electric sonic resonance
Coursing like static
Heavy as the hair erects
And falls as a collective sigh.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Pacing through the labyrinth,
I’m searching for the puzzle pieces,
Piecing together the images,
With joyous celebration when the dots connect and make sense.

I yearn for the razorblades you wield,
Intended to sharpen lead,
Instead of incising scars,
Drawing images that leave no trace,
In the hope that if my words are abundant,
You can find the monosemy,
And in that moment, I can save a life.

It sounds insane how
Just one stroke
In a moment, becomes
A refined drawing.
How a single experience
Inspires a story.
How a simple tune makes
Up a catchy song.
How a blotch of colors
Form a beauteous painting.
How a person is able
To create such wonders.