The world spinning
I don’t see
When I am in the zone.
Words are all I have
To weave art
To create
A quick restart.
Maybe it is out of
fashion
To get your hands
dirty
With all the ink
and mental stink.
Fragility is art
I cup the words with
my
Tired hands
And when it stands
On its own merit
I show it off like simba.
Sometimes I just let
it dry out
And adorn my wall.
Other time I just mush
it
Into senselessness
And devour the meaningless of it all!
For the awesome picture prompt by Sunday muse
and sunday pantry in Poets and Storyteller's United
