SCRUTINIZE

I am once again looking and looking but find for my effort none worth the continued strain.   I expect you would like a more detailed explanation.   I am trying to find words without giving myself away, forms that feed from my often bare table.    As I approach your mirror it appears I wear no clothes; of substance I am not.   But be brave.   See here, my thin and shallow form is only a reflection of the erosion daring all my ideas to live.   If I held all the answers in my hand I would not need to type away day after day.   My only reward is if someone reads this.   I think and think through my mental magnifying glass.   Might my thoughts become focused enough to catch fire?  Perhaps we could rub and rub our ideas together, sure a little friction, but notice the small sparks turn to smoke our kindling. 

Later, as we kick through the ashes looking for words ... fucking words.  Just letters cobbled together: synapse crackle, electrons smoke, ideas fume, dreams choke on the ashes of this failure of ours to build a beacon bright enough to herald our freedom from their foolishness, those opinions so insignificantly ignorant one needs only a microscope to scrutinize.

M.Paul