Erdu

I lay waste to expertly manipulated graphite that my four A.M mind had worshipped. Friction and rubber snub the creative flow and waste hours spent feverishly bringing thought to creation on long haphazardly slaughtered trees. I blow and I wipe away imperceptibly small prices of the masterpiece-no-longer furtively, by blowing, brushing, tilting. The graphite stubbornly clings to the paper like a kid on the first day of kindergarten. Ever reminding me of my failure, the eraser fails to obliterate my heavy handed etchings and far flung dreams.