Blank page, anxious pen
All night long from six to eleven
Head is dripping as a thousand words wind
Gushing through this dreamy mind
Where should I get to start?
What is the beginning part?
A dash, bullet or question mark?
My exclamations are igniting sparks
Empty canvas, empty space
Each palette awaits their own place
We are colors in our own ways
A motion picture our footprint paints