He hides his intentions

Wearing his face like a mask

He forces a smile and fakes a laugh

Turning his tears into watercolor he paints

To cover up the truth of the things that he hates

His secrets stored in the depths of his mind

Are corrosive and leave him feeling empty inside

Until they build up so deep

The mask cracks

And he is finally freed

Buttons bottoming outside their

Sweaters sewn forth in warmth of

Comb woven nests in tv trees a

Mile up beyond some digital cloud...

Now they fall in hyper-spaced

Cyber-speed pixellated droplets

Through all false filters feeding a

Hastily hoarded human picknick...

Like some quantum basket filling

By Itself whatever it can unperceive

Chemically concocted imagination

Might carry the handle of this day...

Thieves of the night lurk in shadow

Waiting outside your window

For you to close your eyes to sleep

And enter in when your thoughts are deep

Whispering into the unconscious mind

Looking to see if they can find

The treasure held close to your heart

So they can tear your life apart

I grow tired of this story

The dialogue is stiff

The plot sucks

The characters refuse to cooperate

I have lost direction

I have writers block

Who has the time for this anyway?

No one will like it

I should just throw it away and start again

Because the only person who read it laughed at me