Enslaved to Writer's Block

Stuck inside these long, blank halls

Held captive by my own restraints

That limit the freedom for flow these thoughts and all.

Is inspiration lurking around the corner?

Or is it the thoughts inside my head roaming in search of escape with no place to stay?

They’re racing, raging , pacing everywhere around me.

Should I set them free or entertain the delay of unbinding?

Creativity lacks me or I disable its passage?

I place the limit; I oppress them without knowing so.

I’m not getting very far.

I put the breaks on when I need to keep moving forward.

My desire is that of the hare, but my existence- the tortoise.

Contradictions bind my progress as if I’m stuck in mud with a rope to pull myself out.

I can’t stand by my words, they fall to the wayside.

Focus is a distant land that I have yet to see with my own eyes.

Concentration has turned into flies buzzing all around.

I convulse without end, and need control and liberty all in the same moment.

I deeply inhale the chaos inside the bars of this prison.

Chasing all that catches my eye,

I can’t seem to finish what I began.

There’s a dream with a deadline, but I allow fear to guide me to failure.

Inspiration, can we be friends? Purpose will you pursue me?

Red rover, red rover, let me come over?

How can the enemy face defeat if the hero is a villain too?

I need a key, an escape, a breakthrough,

a fix, and a cure for this madness.

Is the bridge to conquering stable, or will I indefinitely cause each wooden board to fall beneath my unsteady feet?

The hourglass is reaching capacity. Time hasn’t abandoned me yet.

Will I take the next step?

If I cling to my pen will these words be accepted?

Will they leak out of the ink in my veins, and swim away to safety?

This vicious cycle has pulled me under its current many instances before.

Does it end when they set foot on the shore?

What’s a finish line?

Alien of success,

Let go of me.

Simply, let it be.