Blow off the dusty atlas That is my construct Well travelled and traversed by letters Peek through the curtains of my words Delve deep into my historical abyss Watch by the sidelines As I pop a literary pill to relieve my vocab addiction.
Hunt through the archives of my mind What wonders and secrets will you there find? A vowel or consonant, a comma or an apostrophe Blended together seamlessly or in total confusion? They wait hungrily to be rewritten into something new So perhaps all you might see there is a glimpse of a blank canvas For these are my unformed poems in the attic of my brain.
