pseudo geyser
Dear blank page
I have not even looked at your
open space in a while.
No character or person came to my mind.
My own feelings were quite dull.
Then I was spurred on to face this terrifying grey.
Yet no words or meaning could enter the fray.
Earlier, I saw in a vision
a broken city and a saint.
This month does not inspire me right now.
So, I am just jotting down my complaining.
Maybe if someone is reading until now
they may find the fourth wall break
entertaining.
Maybe this brought them
from sympathy
to empathy
staring at my meaningless
worry.
Tomorrow a bird my fly and catch my eye so I can paint it swiftly
in a moment of
bliss and blossoming mist
my grey matter splattered against
a wall of pain and frustration.
Desolation.
It is easy to complain here, because you always listen.
And the reader must grow impatient
as I am now
to close this page.
young helm
misty island