Writer's Block

You're doing fine, you fought the fears You hang your words on crystal tears from dripping, burnt out chandeliers to light the cobwebbed thoughts You bite your tongue, you shake awake with egos blown up, stuffed and great with whispered voice, you supplicate to have just an ounce, just a sip This caustic emotion stings for a moment a wound licked with fresh gasoline Burnt to discovery with unholy reverence yet quick to burst open, to bleed You start the war, your pen in hand Words leak like tepid milk, sour but bland Cursing the ground which your lowly feet stand Light cavities dim to darkness You limp like lightning, you flood the hall with kerosene brilliance, you'll burn them all to the white washed dream you barely crawl to give birth to purified greatness...