pen and i

Words for the days my mind unwinds

Gears cobwebbed and confined a

Universe defying natural law and theory.

Behind solid doors where only my

Hands, translators of time,

Transfer outlawed thoughts beyond the outside

To a realistic world.

Fictitious fantasy and fountain pen

Traitors of the century, how dare you speak so

Ambiguously, your words so few and pictures

Bleeding vividly within my mind; Imagination never been so cruel the

Malicious antagonist within my mind,

Torturing its accomplice, poor hand,

Confronting its fear of misinterpretation

Spilling across the slate of

Pulp and fiction, hand and hand, coming

Clean of all distraught

For the first time.

Yes! My pen be mightier than the

Daggers that afflict your heart with words of

Depress and Demise; the tool to

Scrape your mind clean of such

Hurts and joys and feelings and

Words to heal on paper.

Pictures for the days my mind cannot describe with great

Valor and Precise.

Drawing paths from star to bright star, erase-

Tease clouds in and out of

Mind, when haze and puffs of reality

Choke out its inventive voice from

Speak-Ing

Flu-Lent-

Lee.

As I lean against the cradle of this palm on this

Blank estate, so the

Pen leans against the

Cradle of this palm in a

Blank hand; both

Breathing life into created worlds, both

Fictitious and real, both

Inventive inside.