What a Writer Needs

i need a speck of dust in the universe
to inspire me. i need for it to do
something so ordinary that i feel
compelled to weave a vignette out of
it. only because its simplicity made me
yearn.
_{[i need some air in my plastic lungs]}

i need a bird in the vermillion sky to
invoke feeling in me. i need for it to
look so helpless, i'm driven to spin a
poem out of it. only because these kind
of things make me cry.
_{[i need some throbs in my paper-maché heart]}

i need an ounce of pain i used to have to
kill me. i need for it to tell me that i
never pushed you away; you just didn't
have the patience to put up with me
anymore. only because it tears my paper
valves.
_{[i need some silence to drone this noise out]}

i need the scent of an aching flower,
before it dies, to wake me. i need for
it to show me how to ask for forgiveness
without meaning it. only because that
kind of thing keeps me writing.
_{[i need anagrams that don't run out]}

i used to get inspired so easily. i
never asked for much and i didn't hide
at all. but you can lie to
everyone (and yourself, you're the only
one who can) because that keeps you
going.

but me? i need the scent of dying flowers
and an ounce of pain i used to have. i
need a bird in the vermillion sky.
and i need that speck of dust in
the universe to inspire me.
_{[because that keeps me going]}