Paradox of Silence

Brain dead again, once more again just stringing along dead end thoughts running out of ideas today The writers' disease is prevalent, the dreaded writers' block It's a sickness, unavoidable oh well I'll find a way to win this short battle oh well It's too easy to get out of this plastic bag hole in which I fell The grey clouds are calling for rain, I'm calling the same but why listen to a fool with dreams I tossed aside an audio message meant to last, last one more day Regretfully, my temptations kept me at bay putting up an immovable castle and a moat though I treated it like a sinking boat Now the silence of my breath, the music of the day Is this what I need, fresh air and the spirit of my thoughts the luring whisper of the wind sinking its teeth calmly into my skin allowing me to see through its invisible eyes And all I wonder...and all I imagine... Does the serenity of the birds chirping the grass dancing, the leaves slowly falling asleep, the first drops of rain define all the things describing 'cheerful bliss', 'startling halt of nature', 'chaotic peace' I am nature's opposite, nature's mistake its letting survive and I am just fine, I am fine Colorblind, no; regularly blind, laughably yes in some cases Just living in the borderline sequence of reality and fiction twixt twilight; twixt right and wrong a righteous oblivion fit for a king but it's home to a loser named me