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Stuck.

08 Jan
That is what I feel.
That is what I feel when I am here
                                                  there
Tearing at the flesh
                        fighting for freedom
            neanderthal
                                     monkey
brains melt, cook
                        d
                          o
                             w
                                n
               into a buttery
bowl of grits…
 
Escaping into the darkness
              into the abyss
             into the corner of creativity
a desk.
           it sits there, homely,
             a pallid creature creates
                       mindless scribbles
                                  as crumbled papers make mountain ranges.
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Posted by on January 8, 2013 in Poetry, Writing

 

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