Take A Sip

Sometimes a blank page resembles a saucer of milk.

Words ripple along its surface, and I try to lap them up.

Other times the page curdles, and I walk away in disgust.

Today’s page smells fresh, so I’ll take a sip.



It doesn’t take long for my eyelids to droop.

Co-workers type a lullaby in the office next to mine.

I hear empty laughter, an effort to grease money out of someone’s wallet.

My eyes thirst for some kind of stimuli, but a cruel, practical soul painted the walls off-white long ago.