Blocked and loaded

Lately

when I try to write

Nothing comes of it


Just raspy thought-schisms

That fail to take hold

They fizzle and pop

And disappear

in a wisp of blue smoke

Leaving me

With faint and fading echoes

in the empty chambers of my brain


Mornings used to be a fruitful period

Now they’re as dry as the Sahara

Coffee used to be a thought lubricant

Now it’s just gasoline

for a stuck and revving engine


There’s a constant buzzing

a negative counterbalance

A marshalling of malevolence

blocking words and spilling ink

I’m waiting for a clearing

A splash of light

On an open field of possibility

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