Writer’s Block

Man, I love these words so much,
I slam these keys, they plead my touch,
I’m cramming every thought with lust,
Of poetry, their rhymes combust,
And just like that,
I’m thrust right back,
Into the life of writing, trapped,
I’m swallowed up in lines like cracks,
Each sentence split, I’m slipping past,
My conscious grips… freedom at last!
I’m swimming in the schemes of graphs, each line precedes a dream to grasp, each time I reach my seams unlatch, my gleaming soul retrieves its wrath, I’m wreaking havoc, grieving’s past, it’s time to step up, lead the pack, the page is new, delete the drafts, I’m twisting words so read them fast, each second now these pleas will pass, these letters are a tease, perhaps, and just like that my knees collapse, I’m on the floor, a piece of trash, crumpled up, disease relapsed, these words have left me breathing ash.
Man, I hate these words so much,
My fingers hoover, never touch,
I linger over letters, lost,
These words will be my broken heart.