They yell in hushed tones
These scribbles of thoughts
In half filled journals
How haggard they sound
As dust collects in the loops
Of the cursive writing
These incomplete ideas
Do not age gracefully
Emotion fades with every second
Until they sound like a flatline
A lost pulse
To another patient intention
These unfinished poems
Ghosts of memories
My hands fail to complete
On time
Poetic Trials 
best one yet I think