Snore

Spilt, the drool
a stale oral fountain
lapping the endless sea
of blank blue lines and
stark pale paper

Stands, the pen
a stilt for dwarfing voice
propping up tired weak
of hushed hours and
droning days

Sleeps, the bard
a tepid two-step tone
tapping out in stars
of wasted words and
languishing ink

...ratatat tat