Void Truth

In vanity, in regret, and in unwanted desire - my veritas.
Proclamations without passion - these thoughts.

This fist, this voice, this life that I have come to endure - means nothing.
For my pen is - inkless, passionless and brittle.

Every vibe and beat - I lack volume and crescendos.
Clouds precipitate bitterless rain.
Canvases produce spiteless rage.

Photographs, and scenes - mean a thousand less words.
Frustration and sadness - will never collide.

I ruse, I kid, I joke, I jest - if only I could once more.
You and I - my - words now are wasted on you.

I am certain now - without any shadow of doubt.
This thumping, beating heart is ready. I am ready - for my truth.
My void truth - I am empty, because I am complete.

A/N: Originally written on 12/26/06.