Olympic Gold Medal, On Layaway
There’s comes a time
from deep within,
when you flourish
in idea, producing
at a new high,
another level
of thought arises,
anything is a weapon
to a sword-ed pen
ripping at paper
conquering
line by line
bulbs go off
lighting every situation,
everything is a solute
blended together to
create a piece
perfect, sharp tongued
licking the emotions
of anyone who reads,
anyone who spots,
but this is not
one of those times,
because
I can’t write for shit,
and my mind hasn’t worked
for the past week..
so…yeah
-
artisticveins likes this
-
coffeeandthanatophobia likes this
-
strawberryminefield likes this
-
theremiss likes this
-
brenditaraqs likes this
-
victim-of-convenience said:
Don’t delete anything but the part that says “I can’t write for shit.” :p
-
thesealivesinme said:
I know the feeling, and it’s a hard thing to grasp for, when everything in your hands feels like a pen with invisible ink.
-
anacoluthiac likes this
-
amanco posted this
