Inspiration,
like an uncharitable dripping tap
forever fruitless thought
and threatening zealous
colours and smiles borne by
a writer with a drying pen,
want for want.
Inspiration,
a colouring book of
folded pages and thick black borders.
A frustrated child
indifferent to method
and thus, devoid of intention,
need for need.
Inspiration,
purchased in the wrong currency
irony bountiful
but desire for articulation lost,
yours for mine.
Dried ink and scented candle wax,
pressed against the black mug
vacuums, ticks, footsteps, gasps,
noise, noise, noise,
opportune child picking at herself,
shredded lips and opaque nails.
Hated papers everywhere,
grey-lead for incandescent words.
Useless, pitiful and senseless
waning desire.
Direct this passion before it loses out.