Blood Upon Pages

As I place the pen on paper my soul beings to bleed upon the pages my secret longings hopes and dreams of which I hope to be, how I want to reflect me transpire into the universe within my poetic lyricism the warm sweet smoke of my vega blunt swirls about me, flickers in and out of motion as the vanilla candle nearby fights the shadows in my room the cool summer breeze from my window carries dancing sinsemilla fog around me, allowing my mind to adventure elsewhere into the nights abyss of minutes, turned to hours I write pages, of words scribbling my life, struggles and fears Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills “turn your lights down low” beat inspirational peacefulness on my eardrums my small hands delicately pluck my imaginary guitar strings as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's magical voice cracks with emotion, and my soul tingles with excitement For creativity flows within my veins I breath real music, such as she, as soon as daylight opens thine dark brown eyes to see The poetic flowetry, carries me and speaks to me the notes capture my inner disturbance and desires until the soundtrack of my day takes me into Summers night thoughts of my dreams of being a published poet clearly float into my sight Then, I sit as I place my pen upon the paper black and white turn to one and my soul bleeds onto pages into an early sun