More than anything
it is fear
of a nameless, shapeless
form
that prevents
poems
from being written.
Nothing changes
of this room
at this time of the day
at this day of the week, month, year
for me
eyes sunken, half closed
for some laughable reason.
No ***** no music,
no glorious sunlight crashing through our ***** windows,
no touch, no words
no memories
changes anything.
I thought that
if I try,
these curtains would lift
higher than I can see
to lights and laughter
and love
and that I,
poor wretched soul wronged and neglected by
the world and
myself
would finally make it out.
And that I would wield
the power
and the control
of the gods
burning
seething with life
torching
the living
earth around me.
The stage today
is thick
with darkness
and sweat
as it always is.
I slowly rise
once again
to embrace it.
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 3:39 PM UTC
More than anything
it is fear
of a nameless, shapeless
form
that prevents
poems
from being written.
Nothing changes
of this room
at this time of the day
at this day of the week, month, year
for me
eyes sunken, half closed
for some laughable reason.
No ***** no music,
no glorious sunlight crashing through our ***** windows,
no touch, no words
no memories
changes anything.
I thought that
if I try,
these curtains would lift
higher than I can see
to lights and laughter
and love
and that I,
poor wretched soul wronged and neglected by
the world and
myself
would finally make it out.
And that I would wield
the power
and the control
of the gods
burning
seething with life
torching
the living
earth around me.
The stage today
is thick
with darkness
and sweat
as it always is.
I slowly rise
once again
to embrace it.
