By Slug
Date: 14 August 2000

Words on pages

I keep writing words on empty pages
Wondering how they manage to fill the spaces
Only a few things make sense to me now-
Intermittently and over time
We find there's something wrong with my mind

And I seem to have misplaced my sense of wow...
But no matter, the replacement is adequate
Or adequate is as adequate does.
There's a purpose here, elusive and cloudy--
But a purpose just the same and one has to find it-

I'll be that one, if you'll be the purpose,
so my constant haze
is at least worthwhile

And I still can't find the words that flow right.
Nothing flows. Nothing comes and nothing goes.
And I stand silent and still and wait...

For the silence to break with a sound so
Shocking that no one will know what hit them.
And they will be scared - fear is emotion, valid and strong --
It leaves the metallic taste of death in your mouth
And you wait for it to get up and move along
So your life can be peaceful, or at least uneventful-
Or at least safe.
It's not safe.
Blank pages fill my mind
And i have too much time
To kill...
Or wait...
And I already know what I want.
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