Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The Writer's Block
Must be like a constipated soul
Or is it more serious?
The analogy of a blocked valve?
The desire to stop your heart
And fix it
Or perhaps just have its services
'Temporarily Suspended'?
The desire to vent a stir in the
Soul's deepest chambers
And not having enough
Tears?
No music No memories
No sighs No motions
No dance No rays
No moon
Anywhere

No voice
At all
But simply a dry howl
That ends too soon
While wailing
On empty nights

What do you
Where do you go
How do you burst again
Upon the world?

No doctor
No lover
No mother
Knows

Only you
Who knew yourself too well,
Loved yourself too often,
Wrote yourself too much.

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