Without fear

 

 

He stands there in overalls and a bowler,

his face still a mystery,

as nothing is there,

a blank expression where

laughter would be expected

as he raises the dull blade,

bringing it down without a sound

bludgeoning the creativity,

smashing pens into piles

of dried ink souvenirs

he sells to the buses

of lost poets

passing through

trying to remember the past,

what it was like to write freely,

without fear

 

With crooked fingers,

pockets already overflowing,

spilling on the ground,

he pushes deeper,

the cash of the lifeless,

empty wallets now lying on the floor

with stale French fries

and smashed M&M’s

thanking them for their business

before locking the door

to his café once more

Reviews

[Matching Socks]

Chin up Will. :)
No body paints a sad expression better than you do, but I have seen how beautifully your light shines.
It will shine again and your pen will bleed gold.

[willweb]

Now that is something to look forward to...bleeding gold...I hope someone doesn't steal it. :)
read moreNow that is something to look forward to...bleeding gold...I hope someone doesn't steal it. :)

Thanks so much my sweet friend. Nothing makes my light shine brighter than a visit from you.