Tell, me, are you also confused?

I don't know what to write.

not any more.

First there was the thrill of the unknown,
then, there was overwhelming sadness
and after that, confusion.

Then after the confusion came a cry,
but now they won't be coming,
nothing.

Describing my surroundings now holds little interest for me,
and the life of a loner does not make for the most epic of tales.

Without feeling, there is no inspiration, and without that, it all falls to pieces.

But, wait, there is something.

Loss, mingled with shame swims before my eyes,
dancing, taunting, mocking.

Tear drops splatter on the floor far below,
accompanied by torn fragments of paper and old lyric sheets.

It's time to go, and a new planet takes to the heavens,
one of black and blue canvas with Velcro straps.

a blackened rose falls beside a seeing stone,
a moldy muffin and a crumpled can become unlikely companions in this journey of un-epic proportions;
some coins parachute out and are quickly replaced by shoes laces in all the colours of the rainbow.

An amethyst, a glass pyramid and a tiny ceramic unicorn are next to join the party,
but then the world of black runs blue with the ink of a busted pen, and an avalanche of shredded ideas drown the townsfolk far below.

Slowly, everything begins to swim, ideas mashing, words blurring,
a mess of typos, errors and lyrics never to be sung.

And when it gets too much, the dull clang of something heavy falling into a trash can is heard,
and fifteen dollars and forty nine cents poorer, the writer takes to the road,
the slate is clean
again.