The room barely moves, it is finding a way to make sense again – left to perish so very long
A manner in which to breathe
Furnished all over again, he removes a felt-tip pen and begins to scribble ’til it does in fact hurt
Centred, focused, aside rather at home once more
It’s been meaning to mean quite naturally everything and then some – the room and this particularly insatiable pen
These verses don’t exactly write themselves, so you do know
Suddenly, like wildfire, a resounding degree of concentration causes these words to enfold
And to finally, fair masterfully come at themselves – the near perfect poem to be showcased for his eyes only
Piercing to extremely needy
And he tends to stepping back to measure its worth, never enough