a creation
Thoughtless and unwound; no motivation or talent to assist
The words bound out before they can reach the paper
Order is lost and flow does not come easy
Fingers move across keys in waves, the domino effect is short
In the time of lost words, fingers linger over the places where they are no more
Tongue dry and thoughts unwilling to step out
Bringing myself to places with salty air in these times
Returning when the light catches my ideas and something is finally created
But alias the creature is stained with imperfection and is redone to create precision to the artist’s eye
The head shall burn with the newly born considerations
But to the artist, each moment taken from him, is one he would gladly give up to see his beautiful creation shine
