its hard to write when your mind is empty,
like your brain can't put together the words right.
every time i glance at the blank page
i catch my breath,
and my eyes trail in and out of focus.
i don't know if it's out of frustration,
or whatever else,
but its like my head sinks below the water for a minute,
whenever i pick up a pen.
writing shouldn't feel like drowning, yea?
so why does it feel like drowning?

its hard to write when your hand isn't steady,
like its trying to run away from the words.
an unsteady hand is the enemy of poetry,
so i guess i can say that,
when people ask me
why i can't do the things i love anymore.
why my days are spent inside,
shades drawn.
maybe i can say that i can't see the notebook,
that's why i haven't been writing.

what i don't say
is that i don't
want
to see it.

these days, words weigh on my mind like cement.