Thoughts Stop.

Like the period at the end of a telegram

and all I can do is stare

at the white space around me.

white space.


and don't forget the walls and

textured ceiling


my words

refuse to

flow or something of that sort

as the page gets blurrier

as the screen hurts my eyes

and that nagging feeling of failure

washes over.

I read the classics


modern authors make me

even more insatiable

I don't think I've had block this bad


my emotions are dry

so that well is empty

words do not play tricks inside my mind

so that method is through

music sings nothing to me

but unoriginal lyrics.

"sing me something soft sad and delicate, or loud and out of key, sing me anything"

Indie band Straylight Run

very nice in their music

but this poem is not a review

write me something beautiful

sad or graceful

or long and complicated

write me anything.


but no problem

at least my writing exercise

can be something productive




I knew it.

I had that perfect idea earlier

why didn't I write it down

that's it

I am never leaving my notebook at home again.

pathetic but no problem

maybe a poem is not to be

and until the inspiration is struck

let it be.