untitled

untitled,
he left it
for fear that branding it a name
may leave it, meaningless

scarred and empty
the white pages lay
untouched
abandoned

reaching back
cutting down any recognition
toss aside now, for something
ambiguity can lead to greatness

tearing through layers of musty
wallpaper
the neverending floral patterns
"scents of scenes in my head"

so speak of nothing
contained thoughts are bound
to break free;
eluded

thought and theory
sequenced so delicately
for when absent
all is left in ruins

any sentient creature would agree
the greatest voids
can be filled
by voices