• Her thoughts slide down the pencil,
    And onto the page;
    Where the pictures come alive,
    And the words hail to be true.

    Where the real world disappears,
    And a new universe opens from above.
    Where you see nothing but your wants and heart's desires,
    And your whole life starts anew.

    Her thoughts slide onto the paper,
    But mine drift away and out of the pencil,
    Slowly coming back,
    But never ever going down.

    The thoughts go from my head
    And into a place of nothingness;
    Coming in and out,
    Slowly maddening me.

    As if my thoughts are a broken clock:
    Always ticking, But never going anywhere.
    As if they are a book with missing pages:
    Inadequate enough to make a story.

    Our thoughts, different.
    Our worlds, non-existent.
    Our trials, shaping.
    Our stories, the same.