The Writers Block


On the edges of town unseen
Rents are low, space unclean
Rooms stacked high, all eyes to sky
Standing tall to die or lie

Looking down to sit it out
Hearing only another’s shout
Sleep beckons if you dare
Wasting away today’s nightmare

Hallways linger, stairs to climb
The roof’s the answer just one time
Seconds count days made
Weeks blind night’s shade

Darkness eases the morning light
A choice to choose to pick a fight
Ideas rhyme yet make no sense
Timely babble of now and whence

Mind’s clear but for fog
This tale needs an epilogue
The prologue screams for its end
Borrowed time free to lend

Random words slapped in place
Precise meaning slaps my face
Conclusions rushed making time
All indivisible in our prime

Neighbors wave in disgust
Tidal changes of love and lust
The future awaits, now once more
Now to only find the door

*
sck091016

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