there is a
subtle beauty
in the flashing
of the cursor
on a blank screen
when i need to
scream out my
anxiety or
cry out my love
but there is
nothing but the
staccato beat
of the blue line
focusing all
of this hyperbole
into stringently
defiled order
a brief silence
before my thumbs
tap out an image
my mind has yet
to fully envision
dippinmy fingers
into the raging
torrent of words
uncertain of
exactly how
the jumbled ball
of emotion will
splatter against
the electron display

my brain is a
sieve separating
the fluctuations
between chemicals
and electricity
the cursor acts
as the baton in
the hands of palsied
conductor following
the flitting aches
lashing fiercely
against the walls
haphazardly constructed
as a last line of
defense between
my own self destructive
tendencies and the
unwavering adorations
that swell themselves
in my sorrowful
acceptances of my
own boundless failures
the blank screen
calls out another
chance at being
seen for who i am
not the facade of
cracked indecisiveness
brought on by
cyclical abuses and
tendered resignations
but for the beast
made of flames that
scorches eternity
chasing the flashing
line down the back alleys
of your fluttering heart
stealing your breath
while my needy lips
trace the depths
of your perfection

the cursor flashes
in stutter step with
my pulse as i wait
for the spigot to
release the fury of
all the words trapped
in the immolation
of my passionate soul
i bleed into the
æther to paint these
portraits of the you
blindly following the
curl of your smile

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