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Published:May 1st, 2008 14:31 EST
Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa

By David Richardson

I lost all my genius that night.

And all the colors of my mind

Just ran away,

and fell

to an indiscriminate gray.


All my exploding canvases

woke up and decided

to go away.

And all my poems are now written in a sad,

empty light.


No more fight.

No more sight.

No more little smiles;

a sad little broken heart,

in the night.


My Toulouse-Lautrec died in a train wreck.

My Dylan Thomas drank himself to death.

And oh, my Van Gogh

eventually gave up,

realizing his Gauguin had gone.


But more than that,

My Beethoven,

stuck his head in that

Sylvia Plath

"I don’t care anymore" oven.


The music that comes from

your soul

is so unlike mine.

Because I know,

it’s all a matter of time.


I don’t think you should bandage my wrists anymore.

Because my planet, baby,

has been rocked to that fatal core.

Hope always falls down and gets hurt.

Spinning around, I fall down,

face down in the dirt.