Only Words

I dont know about the rest of the world, but for me words provide the only escape route, the only means to any end. I need them, I crave them. I cant do without them.
a sharp tongue and a honed wit have always been my salvation. i have always relied on them to get me through a tight spot; to get me into one and eventually out of it again... but as of late my words seem to have gotten lost into an endless abyss , I tend to make some blunt redundant comment thus labeling myself "A fool."
My wit and words are failing me so this is my attempt a salvaging it.. tell me if its any good.

I let thus cursed ink fall upon the ravaged earth,
For it has betrayed me in ways intangible to ordinary thought.
It bore witness to the genocide of purpose and truth.
All the while dripping a tinge of blue;
Broken words of worlds lost-
Trivial and insignificant.
In bliss, as the present vanished into the void of oblivion.


P.S.: It isnt complete but i've got a block, i'll post the rest if and when I finish it...

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Making Merry

"What's today?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
"Eh?" returned the boy with all his might of wonder.
"What's today, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge.
"Today!" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day."

The holidays have arrived and everyone seems to have developed an uncharacteristic sense of decency, kindness, benevolence and all that we righteous celebrators of Christmas consider good and moral. Christmastime is that time of the year when we shower one another with benedictions, sit together for an evening meal in peace and harmony. During the rest of the year, of coarse, we make it a blatant point to carry out acts of pure malevolence, to malign every other organic life form and to be indifferent to the chaos and pitiable state of the world.
The birth date of christ sparks in each of us a sense of humility but that warm fire of compassion lasts only a mere 24 hours after which it is dried out by reality, the indomitable.

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Piano.

when i put my hands to the keys, all my anxieties are lost, all worries withdrawn. as the hammer hits the the tightly wound strings, my finger flow and my nerves loosen.
it has been a sole and solitary companion: often when i felt as though my nerves and stomach juices signed a pact ti make me feel as nauseated as humanly possible, the resonating sound created in the body of the instrument rid me of all self doubt. before and important examination, when every muscle body ran stiff and cold, i sat myself down in front of a classic and all melted away.
whether i am an extraordinary or simply mediocre pianist, matters not. for when the soothing echo of crochets and quavers, created on the treble and base clef, hit my ear drum: nothing but music can be heard; nothing but music can be felt.

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