Frantic Whispers of My Pencil

Can't you hear the frantic whispers of my pencil?
Translating my thoughts into words that scream loudly in my head
words cleverly disguised as the confused ramblings of a misanthropic iconoclast.
Words laced with marked yet honest traces of a dream
traces of hope and truth not riddled by despair
There is a place in time that is bound
by no ocean;
enveloped by no fog
constricted by no emotion
passionately angry
or
desperately desperate
this place in time is forever and I wish to be there
But the shape of tomorrow has a hole in the center
and the sound of today rings hollow inside
Life's songs are missing their melodies
and no one hears
the thoughts that scream loudly in my head
because the "no ones" are illiterate
and what I have been writing has been misread



                                                         Yet again……

 

© 2010 Lyndsey Warren