the ink that bleeds out of this pen;
and onto dead trees
makes the bones in my hand ache
my restless mind tends to wander
and get lost between the pen and the paper
the words that flow out
look back at me; and shine
when all your eyes can capture
are scribbles and lines
staining a white surface was such a waste
oh my, my...
what a disgrace
I have made,
all for you
and those pretentious eyes
devouring the Earth
and soaking in its glory
