A5 Antarctica

a gaping A5 page 

of antarctica 

baron,

freezing,

wordless

but I’m the kicker

of words

the palaeontologist

of ancient 

fragmented 

paragraphs,

and still the page 

remains void of it’s

purpose, giving me 

heed to express

what I need, yet

nothings coming,

I’m far too focused 

on my creative whiteout

however loud 

my pen shouts

or my inner voice

relents, the A5 page

remains absent,

blots, ink spots

spunk over the

great white paper shark

that I can’t feed 

with word meat,

who needs paper anyway?

it’s an overrated form

of medium, 

and as much as it 

stares me down,

my need to express 

the profound 

remains impotent