There is a story inside me,
Hiding behind a gauzy
Veil of bad sleep,
Bad dreams, bad luck.
Sometimes it flutters past my eyes,
A lone moth drunk on old flannel
Daring me to swipe it from the
Sky and hold it in my hand but
I am too slow
Too clumsy
Too tired
Too tired.
There is a story inside me but
Today is not my day to catch it.
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Categories: Poems, Uncategorized
Why It Matters 
Wow. Not only is this a beautiful piece of poetry, it resonates deeply, and I imagine not only just with me.
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That same moth flies by my place every now and then. I have a few story ideas, but only ideas. I know I’ve forgotten more of them than I can remember as I’ve never wrote anything down. Same with drawing. It’s been seven years since I’ve done anything at all. Sometimes I think of tacking a piece of paper onto a wall and breaking out the pastels, but then that damned moth flies by.
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