"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Monday, September 27, 2010

Feelings I Wish I Could Write Away.

My pen
is running out of ink
from scribbling
heartfelt scribbles.
It cannot take
all these feelings
of utter remorse,
of supposed failure,
of unreliquished anger,
of death defying saddness,
of sanctioned lonliness,
of felt ugliness.

My pen
can never relieve
what I feel.

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."