Voices fill up my drafts
Unfinished thoughts that haunt my soul.
They drift around in an ocean of their likeness
Waiting to be turned into masterpieces of perfection.
Blinding flashes of joy and nerve wrecking misery,
All wedged into flimsy pieces of paper.
I stand in the eye of the hurricane.
My storm of endless musing,
The bittersweet catastrophe of my choosing.
All of time is spent swimming across an ocean of discarded ideas; of devastating depths from the intermittent tears of wisdom; creating a silence that drowns out the world with its mystic rhymes; spending long enough soaked in these waters helps formulate a train of thought or two at times. As some do make it up to the sky and then there are some untimely deaths. A glimmer of hope, these incomplete thoughts, that drive my obsession to seek the end. Giving me reason to go over the sickle bend. Unfinished melodies have always been the music I craved, for pleasure fueled by anticipation is the most lively of all.