Writers Block

A murder suicide. Make sense of my mind if you can.

Ink runs forth from open wrists
tattooing bare naked skin
with words

of painful honesty.

Finger paintings

punctuate...

the open wound
of my dark mind

as I am sentenced
by inner tormented judge

to plead my own innocence.

Art broken I stand

my hand
clutching at feathers
from clipped ragged wings

and drawing blank

for my muse lays dead
and I her killer...

For she placed her trusting head
upon my writers block

and smiled.




I b

I bashe

Author's Note

I don't know sometimes my darkness gives voice to unspoken feelings

Reviews

[Daytonight]

Just hang in there and your muse will return. Keep on penning....

[WhiteWillow]

I giggled at the last line...is that wrong? "She placed her trusting head upon my writer's block..." Loved it!! Perhaps I should contemplate writing something dark tonight. Hmmm...

[bookworm]

Ooooh....I love that you were led into this dark place...and that you followed....beautiful that you trusted it. It worked on every level...first stanza is dynamite and also the one: "my hand clutching at feathers from clipped ragged wings"...yikes! Brilliant piece, captivated from start to finish!