Once more, I try a blue-blotched sun-shot sky
Pierced through and ripped by ruddy morning beams;
The shreds and shatters touch - I stop and sigh.
These broken words are stuff of shattered dreams.
Again, I try a muffled starless nigh,
The moonbeam's kingdom, sunshine's dusky bane;
Stygian chains bind his feeble light -
The rhythm drowns in wordless pain.
This spiked cheval-de-frise of mind impales
The noble steed of thought. Words seep like blood
And rhymes are fools with reckless line-long tales.
I mourn the sacred ground my sense once stood.
Tonight a phantom haunts these barren lands
And steals those fallen souls with icy hands.

This flashing prompt
Is mocking me
The villain
In my dreams
Waking me from
A restless sleep
Making me wonder
What beauty lies ahead
Or if this day
Is just a nightmare to be had

Teasing me
Tempting me
Out of my writers block
So much so
That I have to
Write about it

The little black line
Is toying with me
Making me
Type
Edit
Delete
Like a cycle
Spinning my mind
Washing my pages
Until the words
Are nothing but memory

Or committed to memory
Depending on how many times
I’ve typed them
Trying to get past this idea
And turn it into
Something of substance
This flashing prompt
Has chained me to the screen

I scratch the idea
And start again

This vertical line
Is taunting me
Asking me what
I have Left to say
Reminding me that
I’ve said it all before
Just in a different way
Assuring me
That the world will tire
Of hearing my story
And I can only
Type so much
In a day
Week
Month
Year

This Caret
Has crushed me
Like a soldier waging war
Before I can even get a word in
Winning the battle
Unable to reach my weapon
Attempting to defend my thought process
Staring deeply I remember
That I am hopeless

This flashing prompt owns me
Keeping me up until
All hours of the night
Beating me to the punch
Whenever something feels right
Placing seeds of doubt in my mind
Making me aware
that the well
Has run dry

It’s not you, it’s me. I know we’ve been going strong for quite sometime now but to be honest, I’ve found myself very unhappy with who I’ve become. I know we’ve gotten immensely comfortable with each other but in comfort, there is no growth. So I need to start taking risk. I need to start coloring outside of the lines because it has the potential to be something magnificent and beautiful. And if it isn’t, that ok too. Because chaos doesn’t always have to lead to madness, for there is truth in chaos, and that is what I want to find; my truth, my voice, my story.

I’ve held myself back because of this fear that I am not good enough, that I don’t have what it takes; that I don’t actually have anything important to say. But there’s something inside of me; something strong and powerful that wants to be heard. So who am I to cage that in? Look, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t afraid, because to be honest, I’m terrified. But I think I need to live in this fear for a while to really understand what I’m capable of. I need to push myself and expand the dimensions of who I am to be able to see what I can accomplish.

I’ve been so focused on not failing that I stopped trying. I found solace in your presence and made excuses to not writing. But I can’t be that person anymore. I’m sorry Writer’s Block, I need to set myself free.

What is it?
Never happens to me!
Quite the opposite,
I can't keep up with
the storm of words in
my head constantly screaming..
"Let me out"