Sometimes it’s not even enough to bleed crumpled thoughts on a sheet. In the quest to pour raspberries on mind’s slate.
The mind works like an artist nagging its nerves to burst those emotions that were forgone by the soul.
Some scratches/ screeches crawl naked to practice necromancy at home. A home where things booze in head articulating chappels of dark thoughts.
I realise that one can’t rely on drinking gallons of positive syrup when the mind holds pessimism.
Sometimes it seems like chasing UFO in the deserted area where no human exists. Like running in a never-ending marathon that leads to draining every square of blood.
These were thoughts that disturbed me often breaking the continuity to write. Is it happen only with me or you all people struggle with these kinds of thoughts. Instead of calling it a writer block, I will name it mind’s lock.
Snake crawling in my heart
Hawk gazes at silvery light
Darkness drifted me to hell
How to hide in my shell
Scratching my little head;
Twiching my sore feet, I walk miles
To hear last warning bell
Every effort is in vain
Why feeling so much pain
Tortured soul lying in secluded lane
Is there any tunnel, Or I am an insane
Emptiness has overpowered me
Is there a grey ghost who glued me
Beetles sucking my flesh and bones
Owls howling at demon’s night
Peeping from the corner of my eyes
Thou Victim of venom dwelling in mind
Is there any stain left on my soul
Or voidness clinches me to the core