Lack of an image even though there are many struggle with thoughts that come so fast and so ready one line blurs into the next an everyday struggle which makes us so vexed but no worries here we know what we’re doing sitting back with our eyes on the sky looking for the trouble that for so long has been brewing

could be a train that goes by as you stand on the station all you feel is the wind in the speed of passing the roar and the rush and the noise surrounded by a chaos  of an invisible crush for that fleeting of moments when normality screams and you find yourself whipped invisible hands trying to tear you apart at the seams

all such illusions created by paper recorded by pen the dreams of so many women and men typing away in coffee houses or in places away from curious eyes trying to record so many ideas so many things so many wants so many lies my heart feeling passion touched by the sun looking for love when all is said and all is then done hiding away like a thief in the night strange humble wordsmith lost lonely poet confused by the plight

and yet look in the mirror yes the one on the wall tells another story of one that has yet to so fall look in the eyes on the one that now types see other fine stories of lesser wounded sorrowful plights masks that we wear so quick to slip see the fingers fly as he shoots from the hip

no images perhaps random words but could that be said of these that now coming to this screen on which others have bleed bearing their souls pouring out their fine hearts seeing their dreams looking for such life given by Eros fine darts love lust and more all life that we can so see yet how would you read it what would your opinion so be

another book waits the evening drags on the coffee grows cold and i long to be gone ignoring the rules and other fine lines smile as spontaneous events tumble along in such elegant sport the hour is late other work distractions reach out to pull me aside and inside the words rage so fierce full of passion and pride

i look to the moon see it all see it clear and know that i am walking and that you are so near then i take my last sip gather all that i am step away from the typing before i come across as a ham too late the voices cackle full of myth and delight as i look to the hours and long for the night