Pen Scratches

My pen scratches toxic poison
Into a wide ruled canvas
A dart thrown by an unsteady hand
That misses the mark more often than not
27 light blue lines horizontal
One long pink perfect to the side
Flanked by three holes
The design like a bulls eye
The ink pricks the center
But thoughts don’t follow
Too long in the dark, maybe
Maybe too long in the truth
They render my pen impotent
And dam the inspiration that would give it life
These empty pages mock me
80 of them, each one
Taunting
Daring me to smear their perfect whiteness
They are content to remain as they are
Worthless
Good for nothing but the fire
A total waste of resources
They want to be a looking glass
And they crave the taste of poison