Pages in a Spiral Notebook

By Loneliness is condescending •
The imperfect gray whiteness
Begging for a simple taste of led
Fill them with something
Anything to make them real
Sitting on the floor waiting for you to realize
That only you can grant them life
My dreams are a spiral notebook
Tattered and frayed pushed away for better things
A little chip that does it all faster then ever
Killing out creativity with their flashing pictures
I'll lie here on the floor blank and empty
One day when it's late you remember that I'm here
You'll come back and fill me once again
Just some page in a forgotten notebook