Like a traffic jam
Everything just stops
I’m stuck
I have writers block
I reach for the words
but can’t
exceed
the grasp
I have writers block
I am dead inside
I try and light a cigarette…
But only a spark
No fuel
There’s no flame
I’m encroached with
Resistance
The door is locked
It’s a nightmare
I have writers block!
Not having enough
Emotion to even cry…
I look at my
Clock
Tick tick tick
I feel like a rock
Find me a gun
Or even a knife
I hate this feeling
I will end
my life
I will blow
Out my Brain
Like
Kurt Cobain
I can’t deal with the pain
I think of
Hunter S Thomson
Was he insane?
What about Hemingway?
He killed himself too.
I think about my
Life today
What do I do?
Well I guess
I wrote this
And you’re reading it too
So I guess I am healed
and good day to you…
very cool ending! =] didn't know really where it all was going until the end, i liked it =]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked how you mentioned Hunter S. Thompson! you broke through your writers block!