By Daniel Paiz

There are so many topics to write about these days, and National Poetry Writing Month is pretty limitless when it comes to choosing. That’s the great thing about poetry as well; there’s not really a wrong interpretation to it. Sure, the writer themselves have an intent for their words, and perhaps if your take goes against that, popularly it might be considered incorrect.

However, that’s art for you. The point of it is expression and reception. Same with words to be honest. In these days of overstimulation and oversaturation, there’s a whole lot of us who are just Overdrawn.

Overdrawn

We are all investment bankers, 

taking losses and gains on the daily, 

but often times withholding;

freezing our accounts on ourselves. 

Risky decisions are intimidating

but taking the biggest choice, 

is what I keep making. 

Quicksand glands,

opportunities there

but I shrink instead of expand, 

next year, next week,

next time, c’mon fam. 

Waiting to die is what

it’s starting to sound like,

where I can no longer withdraw

because my chances are overdrawn.

Sketchy reasons paint a portrait

I do not see through my spectacles,

hectic views are not to become my daily,

by way of miscreant aiding,

of doubt and reserved abetting of

dream snatchers cracking away safety.

No passcode or deadbolt

could secure where I see dreams breathing,

and as they’re robbed away via inaction,

this dream state is losing traction.

My faction requires passion,

of which I must deposit quick,

not enough hours are the excuse,

but savings of what’s received

is how I make bank

from that tip.