December 20, 2010 § Leave a comment

Spiraled evidence of my incompleteness
Wraps metal arms around the edges of rough torn pages
But notebook embraces fail to hold the hands of issues that are rampant and
Ink and lead are little comfort in a world that is
Ripped from bindings and crumpled in the frustration that accompanies
when layers of words don’t reflect the writer or moreso
When they do
And broken hearts and broken minds are deafened by the breaking
Of pencil tips too sharp to form anything but holes
In the matter they cater to
Statuesque figures that stood for sketching
And stood for stability and stood for what was right
are now crumbling into puddles that are leaking
Through my fingers and these words don’t tell their stories
And these words don’t show them glory
And these words masking, muffling
And these words aren’t fixing anything



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading #40 at Authored Angioplasty.


%d bloggers like this: