Keeps On Slipping

I have missed
this place.
Its ivory walls
beckon unto me,
yearning for me
to mark them
with my words.
I cannot begin to relay
the time spent staring
upon this blank wall
for you would not believe it.
I feel as though writing
should serve a purpose
for any fool can write platitudes.
To speak
or even
to write such meaningless entries
only lightens the weight of one’s words
until they are as light and fluffy
as the air itself.
Perhaps it is this reasoning
that has halted my progress;
I want what I say to matter
so it would only make sense
to say only what needs to be said,
but there is so much
that needs to be said
and in so little time,


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