I cut up the past like a fairy tale I’ve outgrown,
Playing with scraps of abandoned language.
I eviscerate the sentences of lifeless fiction,
Rearranging random scraps on a blank page—
Because I fear that emptiness where I don’t know what to say.
I’m left with mindless chatter—a cackling, scrambled
madness.
I litter lettered confetti without meaning, intent unknown;
Struggling to create something new with an incomplete
alphabet.
