Blank Page

The blank empty page staring up at my face is fairly intimidating. How to behave? Do I scrawl, scrabble, stumble my way through the words, refusing to flow, off the end of my fingers? Fingertips dipped in inky blue, and all for you who cannot see the other me, behind the mask, this alias I create to hide my true identity, my real fate. A futile attempt to escape the dawning realities of reality, a life less lived, more existed in. And why? Why struggle, why fight, why bother to write? In a world of injustices, who needs more impotent commentary, more writers, less right? Surely the only way to proceed, to make amends and fix all that has gone before would be to take up arms ‘gainst the sea of troubles, and by opposition bring them to their end. Sending out the message of universal suffrage, equality for all, would prove more useful than all this previous drawl and drivel, driven by hidden, secret and ultimately selfish personal desires, those burning fires raging inside my soul, scorching through the empty hole that once stood for something real and true, something that connected me to you. Are these the rambling thoughts of a wandering mind, or the sort of questions you would find plastered upon the walls of the in-patients halls of the kind of asylum I used to reside in? Do you think I’m sane, or would you have them retain me? Every day I fight the demons sat in the back of my mind, wondering why I do nothing to battle the wrongs that I find. I struggle ever onwards through the pain, as my mind floats on high o’er vales and hills, fighting the vicious effects of these pills. THEY USED TO KEEP ME SANE.

And now I feel bereft, abandoned, alone and stranded, combating the psychosis biting thru my deeping ills. I am not long for this world, and head is filled with hurled and burled ideas of right and wrong, weak and strong, and with a passion to rise against the tyranny of oppression that is not taught in lessons. This is a rant, a rap, some poem, some prose, the likes of which acts as a metaphor, the meaning of which is to help us all strive for a better, freer, truer place, and prevent the boot from stamping on the human face.