Blinking cursor
beating
in synch with my heart
Blinking blankness
not one word is written
yet my heart is beating
I am still sitting
staring
blankly
I am still alive
I must have something
Blinking
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
dance dammit
tip toe over lines
tango with letters
waltz from one stanza to the next
It blinks
wait…
It’s still blinking
at the end
of my
entry
I still got it
I think
I hope
it’s the only
thing
that
beats
in synch
with my heart
indiedoodles 