Writer’s Block

How do you do that?
Insert both feet and talk like that?

It’s a talent I have,
one I developed as a child.

It’s quite impressive,
but is it useful?

Quite. I’m able to not only hurt my friends,
but myself as well.

Sounds painful, though.
Doesn’t the bootblack taste awful?

Most definitely.
I have gotten used to it, though.

A blank piece of paper lies before me,
Begging to be covered in ink.
Lines of text,
Colors…Imagery.
Inside, there are no words,
no ideas looking for release.
My muse has deserted me again,
left me alone…
Adrift above a sea of white,
No thoughts flow,
No inspiration…

Crawling fingers up the spine,
shaking hands clutching emptily.
The deep yawning pit,
swallowing your soul.

Building slowly,
creeping into your mind,
creating nightmares from phantoms,
and turning phantoms into hallucinations

Shaking hands lead to shaking body,
Shivering from a cold brought from inside.
Vainly trying to warm a heart paralyzed by fear.

A simple thing.
A little spine,
A little bravery.
Simple enough,
when it’s standing up to evil,
or defending the helpless.
But to stand and face the truth,
now that’s hard.
To stare into the abyss
of your own making,
And face the unknown…
the depths unplumbed.

Now that takes courage.

Red eyes,
buried in shadows,
gleaming with rage and hate.
Shining from the depths of my soul.
Anger, screaming.
I want what you have…
Why do you have mine?

Blue eyes,
flowing with tears,
sadness in their depths,
weeping in the pit of my soul.
Heartbreak, crushing.
I want that too…
Why can I not have that?

Green eyes,
flaming with jealousy,
Envy, desire, and want.
Raging from the darkest pits
Greed, Desire.
That is mine…
I want it…now.