Rhythm of my Mind

Tired

A blank page,
A blank stare.
All the emotions,
None of the words.
26 letters.
170,000 words.
Yet no combination of these letters,
These words,
Can quite depict
Exactly what is going on in my heart,
In my head.

I see my life as an array of colour
Though it seems to be littered with
A held breath,
A missed beat,
Stunned silence.
Long periods of black and white,
Then greyscale
With occasional intervals.
A splash of red.
A dull red.
A vibrant red.
Then yellow.
Then blue.
All splattered on
Like a flicked paintbrush
Across a blank page,
Or a seasoning of rain
On a grey canvas.

Trying to arrange
Words on a page
Is harder than it looks.
Some make it look easy,
Others create a delicate masterpiece.
My masterpiece is a clumsy mess
Of scattered words
And mismatched punctuation.
A few simple statements
With a fusillade of punctuation
To try and add atmosphere
Though I know every time
It doesn't work.
It will never work.
Not as long as I'm trapped in this body,
In this head.

I'm tired.
So very tired
Of trying to organise
Everything I see,
I hear,
I touch,
With such little success.