Unfinished Nightmare

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Try as we might, as writers, we can never fully understand another's pain. All we can do is imagine.

Unfinished Nightmare Mouth agape trash can lid arches limply its hinged spine like that of partial paragraphs clinging broken yet refusing to let go How gauze-like the yellowed reflection staring back from shattered temper-enhanced mirror clinging also defying decayed adhesive refusing like me to accept the dry erosion of once anchored purpose I gaze deep into the opened sanctuary a place where discarded failure finds solace glaring back at me it continues its vigil reminding the writer has produced but throwaway Open-mouthed gluttony grins patiently crumpled pages like meatless bones fantasy feast mere table scraps drop willingly to appease if not satiate Shrill words retch forth pleading to be more than just letters in free fall find air void of oxygen fall leaden but empty condors and sparrows without wings Unfinished manuscripts cry to live to know to hear created epiphanies read and embraced The involuntary voice shouting back at my muse rides triumphantly atop the wrinkled failure of drunken words falls seductively past the gaping mouth sliding between the sheets of other near misses continuing the downward vortex sending shivers of nourishment to one’s abyss of failure where no one patiently waits abides understands smiles

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