I can't find it these days
where "it" is time, drive, wherewithal
calling upon something inside of myself
that's taken an unexpected leave
leaving leavings
page after page of wasted notes
I've left it here
unattended
no one has defaced or stolen it!
(and this is a bad neighborhood, ask anyone) "I can confirm that"
A cheap bike lock on some cheap prose "There you go again."
and I'm back here to oil the gears.
So a bike metaphor is what the wheel lands on
after its cacophonous clicking
spinning past bankrupt "...all out of vowels..."
can't even be bothered to finish a stanza, let alone a poem
am i painting a portrait of creativity dying?
becoming lost in self-reference and objective expression...
Rambling on, word-wanking
No, peddling.
despite where my doubt takes me
---
I hope that you will know what i mean
when I say the grass looks better
having vaulted my share of fences
it's never seemed so green
I wonder if you'll catch my drift
if I tell you that I've only skipped
along the surface of these waters
and I wish i could dive in
I hope that you will understand
that it's like stepping foot on a planet
after logging hundreds of hours of simulation time
only to discover that you weren't prepared
I know that you will ken it
when i say that I look deeper
and that i've never seen that hazel-green
with pale blue before
I think you will know what i mean
when i say that this world is swords and you make shields
a Valkyrie forged by combat
and scars that have never healed
Knowing you, you'll pick it up
If i say you're on my sides
you know what I need to say
If i'm missing pages, you've got the lines
of the majestic silhouette
because you'll see it's not a dream
it's who you'll make me yet
I know that you know what it means to me
to say the things i do
to open locked doors down long hallways
to be honest with myself through you
So i won't hope that you understand;
this time
I know you do
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