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...
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