Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Desperation

Nothing happens.
The hours thin
like paper
folding on top
of themselves
my eyes burn,
my stomach quakes,
and still
nothing happens.

1 comments:

Brent Vogelman said...

This poem truly captures what I feel like at the end of the day when I have to write a poem for the blog. It seems like you're starting to experience the wrath of your own creation. While I find this experience rewarding, it's becoming more and more difficult to produce a decent poem.