Clueless

Soft echoes of haunting rooms
Thin sheets of bent emotion
Worn thus on edges of mist
Thick hanging regrets upon the hatpost
A shadow filled lightless space
Devoid of shoulds and coulds
Release is a pen
Held in suspension
Just before the ink
Taints the page

Sometimes my head just fills with words, thoughts, ideas. I don't usually write them out. Today I happen to be sitting in-front of the computer anyway so, why not. Most of it isn't poetic at all. Once upon a time words in that format flowed from my brain as readily as water from a faucet. My head doesn't seem to flicker that way much any more. Honestly, I think I've dulled my mind with tv and internet. So goes life.