Note Taker.....

There's a pencil on my back

and it takes continuous notes.

It etches words, phrases, and

sentiments into my muscles.

My muscles feel sore from

all the suggestions. I am weighted

down with why, when, how and

a million other questions.

Where is the eraser? Can I scratch

out the past? I'd like a fresh start.

One that is simple, unobtrusive

and fresh.

I feel the heaviness of lead as it

enters my bloodstream. Toxins I

must absorb as part of the decades

passing me by.

It's drawing a picture across my

shoulders. An idea is taking place

in spite of my lack of motivation

to change and grow.

Creativity must emerge. I can't store

it on my back. And so I write and I

write and I write. My pencil is now

my tool rather than my burden.