Sign of Life

Blinking cursor
in synch with my heart

Blinking blankness
not one word is written
yet my heart is beating
I am still sitting
I am still alive
I must have something

stirring my agitation
blending my thoughts
my eyes tire
but my hands ache

I want to write
I must, there is something
about nothing
that must make it paper

It still blinks
my hands shake
my wrath
is foaming
with writer’s block

I light a cigarette
hoping it will cloud
my mind with topics
poetic and such
but I just get buzzed

I open a tab,
open a book
open something
my muses seem
to play hide and seek
now, it’s not the time

I call them
do the sacred dance
why have they left me?
Has my mental block scared
them to some place
where assumption resides
sucking what’s left of my hope
the one I created a sole home for?

I lift papers
empty ashtrays
pour a drink
maybe they’d show up
and make that blinking cursor

dance dammit
tip toe over lines
tango with letters
waltz from one stanza to the next

It blinks
It’s still blinking
at the end
of my

I still got it
I think
I hope
it’s the only
in synch
with my heart

2 faces




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