my artistic im/perfection
causes me to catch pencil shavings
chewing the soft discards of imperfection
the lead clicking against my teeth and rattling around my head
swallow the sweet/bitter taste of continual evolution

wasted paper curls around white knuckles
tatters of my world gather at my feet
whispering for me to fall
whispers so soft
as to woo my emotions

who really wants the world handed to them on a platter?
It would taste of raging salty seas
Dirt and sand; the top of the cake
That my friends is the world on a platter
Misconceived desires leave that same taste
Yearning for a peach, yet reaching for the green unripe baby

Pitter patter of the snow
Frozen tires and ice
All left their mark on my heart
I sold my heart and soul to forgiveness today
I lived in the shadow of that man once more
Just what have I really done?