Chalk

I can perfect
Passion
But it costs me
I can master
Moods
But they resist me
Some days
Are meant for dust
And worrisome times
Some days
Are blessed by wonder
And carefree rains
But most days are dull
Spent measuring hours
Between doses of
Drugs which do nothing
But fill the mind with chalk
Most days are mundane
Spent measuring hours
Between pages of
Penwomanship which screams
But is blurred by insecurities
And is lost in its own profanity