Writers Block
the wooden pencil between my fingers
the led touches the paper
mind becomes blank
words seem to have no true meaning
piles of crumpled up stationary all over the floor
heaping out of the wastebasket
a dull pencil rolls off the table
on top of it shavings on the hardwood floor...
it too has given up
I place the pencil between both my fists like a rod cracking it into two shanks
the lead between the broken bark exposed
like a fractured bone injecting from the skin
Still usable yet cannot be erased without its other half
Tape...I need tape
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