Well, that was one hell of a poem
That will never see the light of day
I’ll just hide it away
In a folder on my laptop
Marked
Not to be read
Unless I am dead
The curious will surely want to read it then

You need to separate the wheat from the chaff
The boys from the men
You need to separate the uncensored
From the censored
The undone from the done
You thought it
You wrote it
You spoke
There must be something you liked about it
If there is I don’t know what it is
I’ll return to it in the morning
When I’m mourning my awakening

There is nothing I like about it
There are no words I care about
There are no seasons that shine
Reasons that rhyme
No rhymes sublime
I have left it all behind
In the gloom of my mind

All the sparks have been extinguished
I think and think and think
It’s brought me to the brink
Where have I gone wrong
I reach down deep inside of me
But, can’t seem to find the way in me
I’ve lost my muse
I’m not amused, but I am
Without my inspiration
The emptiness screams at me
Exasperating my damnation

I can’t seem to take another step
The heaviness deflates me
That’s not me you see
On the floor
Please just ignore what you see
Step over me
Go around me
Let me be
Let me wallow in my pity
Pity, please
I can still be the witness to
My woundedness

In the solitude of my loneliness
Diving into my emptiness
The depressive blob finds me there
It spreads like the black plaque
Where ever it goes
Filling every crevasse
With what isn’t me
Phlegmatic globs of stickiness
Yet I can’t seem to separate from
it’s grasping crusty tentacles

it is me
it isn’t me
does it matter
when you’ve lost your inspiration
and you’re as low as you can go
and nothing seems to matter
the world spins on slow
you know it’s just a cycle
you’ll come back around
and you’ll land with
your feet on the ground
but, not now.

Have I given away my power
Why can’t I be the one
Who inspires me
Why am I not enough
Am I playing too tough
Too rough
You can be rough and tumble
Still, stumble and fall
I said
To no one at all

You like everything you are
Even when you’re subpar
Who’s to be the judge
Have you heard
No what
The judge retired from the bench
That’s not true
I knew he was lying
I have my spies
Who do the spying
Really
Yes really
That’s quite silly
I feel the fog lifting
I fear it’s lifting
Because it was so comforting
Like an old blanket
That’s so familiar
And that’s even sillier
I feel the fog lifting
Time to put my head
Under the blanket
And go on another mind junket