Blank pages excite and
Discovery, challenge, and
fear rolled together.
Fear of inadequacy,
that I'll run out of words.
Life will suck them out of me
and when I site down to
try to talk about Life I'll have
no words left because
Life took them all.
Life in its Past, Present, and Future
Me, Myself, and I personas.
The Past in its three-cornered hat and powdered wig
standing over my shoulder,
tsk-tsking because I don't measure up
to the maestros.
The Present in its orange tan skin
and too big fake boobs standing beside me,
talking too fast and too loud for my
words to be heard.
The Future stands before me,
tapping its foot and checking its
holographic concept pocket watch,
telling me to
hurry up and get there faster.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting at a
new wooden desk meant to inspire
head in my hands,
staring at a collection of blank pages.