Paper, a pure white ocean of
boundless imagination stretching itself over the edge of the table and
into the cavernous shadows of my bookshelf speakers.
My pen is like lightning dancing across the sea.
A wicked broom in that Mickey Mouse movie, meandering as
pails of ink drop nonsense and brilliance, flooding the canvas with phrases and words.
Errors drip into the cracks of neglect, delusions surf along the tops of,
Nothing.
A cloud hangs in aberration as the tide of realization rises.
Eww. A sick, empty feeling begins to fill me.
I am as still as the sheet before me once was.
Eraser,
It's too late.
Uh oh.
Old and new marks litter the page as I almost soil
Myself.
Good grief.
What have I done?
The thought of terrific work has drowned and
Fear, has been frozen in its place.
Why do I always fall into this abyss?
This historical feeling of being drenched with regret must be vaporized.
My notebook, a tsunami of fresh ideas,
sweet.
The pencil, a much better idea.
No longer am I lost in the fog of the past and left
sipping the mist of my mistakes.
I can now write, erase, and rewrite.
Daylight comes as written words flourish from the fountain of graphite.
The tide recedes, my worries have been washed away and only victory remains.
About the Creator
Vincenzo Rusciano
This is my first time sharing my stories publicly, I hope ya'll enjoy reading them as much as i enjoyed writing them. Thank you and have fun!
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