The page calls

Expecting an answer

It demands a tale

And imagination to snare

It threatens and cajoles

It snarls and cheers

Any ideas I may give

I give along with my fears

The page is demanding

Inspiration long gone

I fear that if it learns

Then my dreams will be done

The lake is still

But the trees are active

A siren of sound

That holds the lake’s captive

But it is deceptive

Both the lake and the trees

As the lake is full of life

While all the trees have is the breeze

The gators stalk their prey

Within the lake with life teeming

But the trees make the sound

Even with life missing

So what is truly alive?

The trees with the sound?

The lake with the fish?

Or me, a watcher on the ground?

My flaw isn’t the poison

The antidote, the raft

That carries me across the sea

Away from the world’s wrath

My flaw isn’t the poison

That’s both cold and hot

It’s the fact that if I start drinking

I won’t be able to stop