Late at night, beneath these covers
as the light bulb cools off,
I find myself digging deeper into the mind.
The thoughts,
Piled up like unopened bills dumped in a desk drawer,
Kept for so long beneath the skin,
they break at the edge of it,
I can hear the void in their voices
“set us free!” they scream!
Tapping the deep flowing rhythms of my psyche,
they yearn to take the stairway to Heaven,
the sweet Tango dance on the paper
I can taste the bitter need
The spine shivers,
I need to set them free
But the blossoming elements assert to curb the dream
Stoned, and held hostage by the hands.
Pen confined by the fingers,
deprived of its duty,
just leaving drops of ink behind so they might someday
find a way out.
and you still wonder about the continuous empty pieces of
paper…?
So now what’s left of you? You know the story
But need I ask, you already know what needs to be done,
charge me guilty of cruelty, for I am.
