Finger Painting

What I do is not writing, not poetry.

Simply, it is vomiting my brains onto paper.

However colorful, however passionate it may appear,

It is but mindless, chaotic splatter.

If ever the words transcend the sophomoric,

If ever meaning or truth is discerned amongst the chunks,

It is distinctly possible…something…or someone

Has finger painted with my brain goo.

Bennett, M.J.