I'm thumbing through all the blank pages in my journal.
It's past 3 AM, and I'm feeling fairly nocturnal.
What in this bizarre world shall I then write about next?
Our universe offers content, yet I'm quite perplexed.
Writer's block is strange when skies seem never-ending.
It's funny, I'm lost for words when space is extending.
Perhaps, I should write with some mechanical pencils.
They seem to expand and are favorite utensils.
YOU ARE READING
Grains of Graphite Book 1
PoésieGrains of Graphite is a North American poetry collection focusing on a wide range of emotions, many of which are intimate.
