Broken Pen

My fate is tied to the dispelled ink on random parchment paper.....

Making its way like a caper smoking a vapor-less cigarette in a red Corvette
Grabbing respect by the decks dealing with the ire of his choices
Taking the power out of life's hand now command of the table
Giving himself blackjack.....

And as the edge swell to hold back the spillage from becoming a mess
This capeless caper addresses the stress that swells within my fingers
Muting the urges that purged from discarded nails bearing my soul
Selling pieces to cancerous pawn shops looking for that score
Relief only comes when prices for the action is paid in full
A mint is made on the grief played out

Who says that life is fair

I can manage anything with the help of others
But in the shadows of doubt I am helpless
Kept tethered to mistakes and choices of ignorance
Sailing on a sea that shades hidden land masses
Bashing my hull till it succumbs

My life preserver comes in fifths and liters

So even now as I use binary codes to scribe feelings bleeding forth
I feel contorted to the proof that lies in the aloofness of being numb
Deadening that maximization needed to sustain environs of growth
Pills of health decayed by soiled tears
Eroding benefits of a stable hand
So I sit near an open window
Hoping that time's breath will slow the dispelled ink

That I can save my words

And fix my broken pen......

143 you mustn't retire.

I've always been a fan to your style of poetry. You have a knack for imagery and creative phrasing. Your lines do a good job of helping your Metaphors bleed together, the themes like miniature paragraphs in the stanzas. I think you opened and closed well.

You're an asset to the section my brother. Drop another.