Thursday, July 27

Writer's Block 

I traverse moments
of endless barrenness,
yet my head feels
heavy as a rock, with the marl
of bagatelle.

I wake from the torpor
rive it at the seams
watching, as a pastiche
of ennui, flaking, falling

I hasten, I scribble
on the debris
of writer’s block -
fealty abides.

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