Somewhere creativity hides

in the depths of crumb ridden pockets

and old couch cushions.

Head aching from the plethora of nonsense

it emblished upond.

Love of blank slates,

myriads of broken pieces.

Collaging bits and slabs

of bastardized souls

creating humble abodes

for the nonsensical.

Somewhere beyond the storm clouds

and rainbow shadows

lays the broken palate

creativity called a soul.