No writing comes
Long whispering night
A silence as loud as dynamite
Heavy hands
starry eyes
Soaked shirt collars
I left the alcohol behind me
Lost my muse
Had I anything to say to you
It was lost in the roar of crickets
A moon shining brightly overhead
all words flowing
Nothing making sense
The sting
the back of my throat
the muse coming forth
sobriety lost in one fell swoop
gaining the attention that I’d lost
the old familiar run mouth
words leaving my lips before they ever made sense
30 pages for you
20 for me
what did it all mean