48. Who Is He?

In an attempt to get the upper hand I almost resigned from my job. I had a long talk with my supervisor/director of the school I am employed at. Hopefully things will change and will be less stressful and a lot more enjoyable. The good news... we're going on a field trip tomorrow to a living museum of some sort.

There's this blog site that I follow that is a writing prompt for bloggers. Today's prompt is about being a writer and if so what would be the subject or topic of preference. For myself... a novella about self discovery. I just can't seem to make it funny.

Here's another poem from the archives. This poem is from the Mijogle series (A name of a place that I made up). Enjoy!

48. Who Is He?

In desperation he felt no choice but to click the button. His thoughts unclear like puzzle pieces scattered across the dining room table. The confusion did not succeed in keeping his desire enveloped in despair. He knew that it had to begin and the moment could not be delayed any further. The words poured out of him like water falling into a basin from high above the cliffs. A waterfall of thoughts interwoven to speak like a Persian rug's decor. In volumes the images crossed all perspectives. He unleashed his contemplations upon a surface of white to see scribbles of lines that made sense to the eyes. Through the window of the soul his world was magnified for the world’s eye to see, to discover that he is me.