Ink Stained Mindset

[Mungo man]

Edit 5 *legitimately thoughtful edit*
The cool touch of brick
rubs against his tattered frock
from behind as he tries to cry.

Tears fall from his fingertips
when he takes them from his face.
Miniature rivulets of regret
that flow from this alleyway.

Always with the same pen, he
sketches words and scenes
onto coarse sheets
of cheap parchment.

When he’s done with one idea,
it’s a race to chase another.
His life; A crushing race against
a falling sky. He looks for light
in an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.

A forlorn artist with nothing to say.

/edit 5

I deleted two of the edits, for they were foolish edits indeed.

Edit 4 *thoughtful edit* (is this better or worse than the original?)

Ink black and pen chosen
to sketch words and scenes
onto coarse sheets
of cheap parchment.

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A forlorn artist with nothing to say.

An idea lost in translation,
It's slipping from his feeble grasp.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his shaking hands
never wrote anything new.




Original:
Ink black and pen posed
to etch words and scenes
onto temporary sheets
of cheap parchment.

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A starving artist with nothing to say.

It's slipping away, off the page,
an idea lost in translation.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his benumbed hands
never wrote anything new....