As I write, the pen trembles,
Mumbles my mind's verdicts.
Upon my thoughts, it stumbles,
Claims my Ideas are convicts.
As I imagine, my soul I bribe,
And hire it to channel my visions
By tides, I'm swayed, away from my
While the pen keeps teasing, the
scribe's calm seas.
Extinct notions, the imagination
To drape a cloak o'er pessimist eyes.
Like droughts to thirsty drops,
Reveals us glimpses of skies.
Eyelids umbrellas, eyes, the clouds,
My hands like napkins, soak the rain.
While heart perspires, yet drips
Enough to drench this sheet again...