Its incredible the way one can
choke on his on spine
For thats how I describe
Being unable to rhyme
For its more than a remedy of kind
Its a reset button ,
Manufactured for distressed times
Its a type of paralysis
That inhibits the flow
Of the mind and soul
A blood clot of our internal fountain pen.
A stake through the heart
Of the wheels and our tyres
This is how it feels
To be not inspired.
But to be is a question
To which creation cannot even reply
Yet when I fail to create
It creates a void inside of me
That drains deserts and floods seas
A monster who drinks the wind
And burps The Trees.
Amidst such desolation I cannot believe
I still managed to keep the stars in my eyes ,
And the galaxy at peace.
So I thanked the sun
But didnt tell the moon please
So every now and then
They'd have a confrontation
When the two bodies colide
And up until now what they said to each other
Has kept the world mystified.
