52,806 words
Who knew death could be so productive?
Writer’s Block
I try to write but the words fail.
Sit, think, smoke, exhale.
As I reach for the coffee cup,
I wonder if my time is up.
Have I forgotten you,
Is that what this is?
The reason I can no longer write this shit?
Or could it be this depression is finally lifting?
Maybe the all encompassing darkness is shifting?
Perhaps after all this time my heart is mended.
And my love affair with words has ended.
(Originally Posted 11.08.2019)
Cutting
I scythe these words
Across the page
To allow my pain to flow
I find it leaves
Much less of a scar
Than other ways I know
‘Want’
An artist for the ages
Your words leave me floored
What else is there to say?
Other than please, give me more
Vocabularians Of The World Unite
Vocabularians of the world unite
To put the wrongs of our world right
To give a voice to those too tired to fight
And into the darkness bring forth the light
The Writer’s Anguish
I don’t
think
I have
anything
to say
Today
Perhaps
there
will be
more
sorrow
Tomorrow
So I
will
wait to
pick up
my pen
Then
For I
fear I
wouldn’t
even
know how
Now
Poetry
Some pills
make it
better
Some
make it
worse
Sometimes
the only
solace
Resides
in written
verse
These Ruby Shoes
It
doesn’t
matter
where
you goOr
however
far
you
roamIt’s
true what
they say
you know
TotoThere
is no
place
like
home
