Why I Cannot Write

I cannot write. I cannot bleed onto the lines My blood festering full of lies, half-promises, and smiles I want to let it pour And get stuck in between the keys Let them think I’m a slob and an addict to the screen The red keeping me stuck in each of my betweens- It’s jam. The leftovers of a midnight snack not- Well, not anything. My pen-and-paper machine is closed, My poetry rotting, swirling Among long-lost English papers I cackled my way through before a midnight shut-off And videos that won’t make it to the wedding-day compilation. The dam is broken everything is spurting out of my veins-my pen-my keyboard Maybe if I bleed out dry Maybe the poison I’ve been harboring will let me be, Maybe I’ll never read these words again. Maybe I’ll be happy.