My personal space is the only
place where hurt can't find me
Its where I succumb to my muse
my music and my private thoughts
Bought me a pack of cigarettes
to tease out my writers block
The outside world can leave me in
a commatose shock
I'm withdrawing in with my demons
back into my literay labrynith
A haven for endless inspirations
The salvation for my denouements
My keyboard is like a piano
I'm playin' it like eighty eights
What could I possibly write about?
Todays senseless random events?
Last nights unfulfilling tossle in the sheets?
The homeless man from last week begging
for change lonely in a crowded street?
Or maybe an instant burst of inspiration
between drags of my burning cigarette
I wish i could cross that bridge past my writers block
Find a new way to write beyond the black and the white
Thursday, September 24, 2009
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you write very well, even with writers block
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