Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa

There is a pen in my hand,
poised upon a blank page.

Together,

They could reveal whole worlds to you,
but they don't feel like it.

They could shock, dismay,
enlighten, or dumbfound you.

They could make you happy,
but they can't be bothered.

They could make you crazy,
but they haven't the energy.

I should know.

I've spent three days,
four hours, and
five minutes. (not
to mention eight whole
seconds and counting).

Trying to persuade them.

And what have I to show?

A mountain of half-thoughts,
cluttering the corner of my mind.

Medium-rare ideas,
being stuffed down the gullet of my bin.

Parts of worlds,
hovering lifelessly in space

Faceless personalities,
conversing without participating.

And the like.

I've fish with no bicycles,
and my half a pint of ale,
without the thieving bugger
who snatched the rest.

And I've run out of tea.