She awaits
the rise of the moon
when the call of the wild
imbues creative energies
waiting to be set free.
The notebook paper
stares back at her
naked, a desolate wilderness
desperately longing
to be clothed
in artistic garb.
Her pen
a broken instrument
with which she holds on for life
yet falls dead within her fingers
and the paper sits bare, alone
clinging to nothingness
devoid of essence.
With the slow demise
of her cerebral fashionista
the paper seems familiar
as it mirrors the blank corridors
of her mind.
Sanitized by it's emptiness
both mind and paper
A quiet oasis begging
for the wind to breathe life
into this mindless desert,
yet the wind stifled
and her thoughts stand still
going nowhere.
Though enticing as it seems
this recycled slab of wood pulp
lies undistinguished
a bare bones form
without meaning,
just as her mind
sits unknown
in skeletal remains
without image.
