I fall deep into poetic purgatory,
Stuck between productivity and a cloudy mind,
I have limitless inspiration, and so much to say,
My fingers stutter sometimes,
Leaving my pages blank,
And my voice unheard,
Half the time I wonder who’s listening to my story,
I write because I have too,
Burning words singe my spirit,
Leaving a charred aftermath of prose and fiction,
My pen is possessed,
My head spinning,
An exorcism of words,
Excavates my muddled sanity,
My fickle and flaky muse,
Shows up when it wants too,
Pretentious spirit,
Flighty and boastful,
While I am the puppet,
Tied by lyrical strings,
My inspiration cut,
When she wants it too.


3 thoughts on “Disconnected

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