Dried Up

I look at the paper in front of me

As blank as my day

There is constant solitary

And my thoughts are far away

What of worth can I place on the page?

An empty colour of white

And I know with my outrage

That something isn’t right

I shower to cleanse my soul

Of shabby artistic talent

A  good write is my goal

Will my gift warrant?

Cloudy days of bilious hours

An empty soul am I

But I walk within the towers

Of humanity who cry

Madness is my life

Fiery thoughts to contrive

Undesirable is your time

The devil gives you a high five

No applauds now or after

One of minions forgotten

Been and gone the laughter

And a sadness ill gotten

So upon the page I place a dot

In the sea of a million words

A  foolscap of names that I forgot

Never to be heard!