To hold that specific moment of truth
one must endure expensive trials
almost drown in the merciless waters of
right choices
or dig a hole in the wastlands of belief

to stick to the plan
takes more discipline than
the most ruthless drill sergeant can
impose

typical misconsception among
those who, like me, only write when
some kind Muse happens to be around at
a certain moment of day or night

often I wonder how come
I haven't stopped doing this
or at least lessen the amount of thoughts
I can splatter on any possible surface

bile written verses cascade from
the ball point and leave
deep grooves of
incendiary malevolence

I remember when satisfaction was contained in one sole phrase

one solitary train of thoughts
right there, vindictive and for everybody to see
shining like some medieval artifact
or at least a promise of such strenght

so, this impromptu piece
is more like a small change confession
of my despicable lack of skill
I can muster, right now

whether you believe it or not.