I am most alone.
Thoughts fly unformed
Like strange, aborted birds.
Imagination exiled
And dreams tainted
With bleeding remains
Of a once inspired muse
I awaken to the
Strange noise in my head
did I feed the cat
And I wonder
Where they went.
I pick at my mind
Like waves on the beach
Moving one thought
After another
Slowly
Rhythmically
Looking for a grain of
Inspiration.
I awake standing alone
In the middle of a field
Empty
No grass, no birds
No little insects picking at my toes
I look down and the ground
Itself falls away.
I read a book or watch TV
Hoping for a little hint.
But all of the good ideas
Have been used before
If I write, "to be or not. . ."
You know where I got it from.
When words leave
I am most alone.
© 1997 nosferaustin@hotmail.com
Get your own Free Home Page