......And so I
butchered boredom,
I slit its pale throat,
and watched it bleed,
the colors and the bubbles
already alleviating
its curse.
It had dogged me
far too long,
thinking that
sheer apathy
would prevent me
from shaking free
of its clasp.
Oh, it fought me,
with bland cliches,
and some lame excuse
on how the world needed it,
but I unsheathed my pen,
its fountain tip sharp,
and severed it's
sing-song jugular.
At last I had
conquered dead space.
with a Pilot pen.
Then I turned
with a yawn,
and wrote you
this poem.
Silver trophy winner
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