FADE ME INTO OBSCURITY
Originality, a spirited soul
trapped within the confines of a
boarded up window,
Peeking at Guilt, who
has long since appeared
the what-could-have-beens and only-ifs
in a wastebasket of discarded dreams
It’s too late to reuse and recycle—
the flies have picked them clean.
My life is a frightening disarray
Of crossed-out clichés
Vacant eyes and half-empty promises
with a broken needle and a trembling hand
Trying to pass off as whole.
Pour me a cup, please.
pour me a cup of sharp distraction and mind-numbing hope
so I can forget why I write.
so I can forget that today is just another day of
so I can forget that these empty words
shoved into boxes in my monotony of a mind
are all that