Longer than a person is typically comfortable with
Into another non sequitorial passage that leaves you bumbling
Words stumbling awkwardly off of the tip of your tongue clumsily
Out of your lungs tumbling past the ladder rungs you climbed to get yourself into the position you were in prior to
Falling
Rhyme scheme abandoned suddenly after the inspiration is lost and you find yourself having to inspect the far reaches of your mind for something that will fit into that empty, burning space on the page
Momentum
slows
as if the athlete in the run on sentence has broken his spirit
Deflated by ideal literary correctness and shards of cliche
The spirit in question is still “his” or “her”; not “they”
Flow like a river hand dug to meet the sea
Current pulling just as fiercely in every direction
Relentlessly displacing sand in hopes of repairing its barriers
Change prevention unsuccessful
You write a poem without a thesaurus
Late to work again