lately the days have felt — long;
long with a touch of sadness
but this touch leaves more than a fingerprint;
an imprint soaking into the depths of my skin
like a drop of dark ink spreading through
a glass of once-clear water, now poisoned.
while the nights feel cut short,
the darkness fills me with bittersweet comfort.
it is calm, cool, and quiet and i am as content
as i am when the sunlight kisses my shoulders,
the warmth eases my tired soul
but it does not remove the ache in my chest.
the crackle of vinyl records
spark long awaited inspiration,
yet no words form and
no image paints this blank canvas.
an artist stuck in their own mind
does not make them less of one,
however,
the emptiness is a haunting void;
a sickness barricading creativity
from the so desired expression
craving to satisfy a blooming universe;
an overpowering slump — thick tar covers me
i am unable to move; it squeezes tighter
as i try to escape this entity
i want to scream but i choke on my words
while gasping for a small breath of air
i sink down
engulfed and surrounded
i regain composure as i close my eyes and drift.
the morning will soon come
and the song will repeat once again