Spacey

I hate sitting down at

an “intimidating’ blank

page and with a constipated

frame of mind &

nothing comes.

Ideas popped up all day

to possibly write

about

but now

in the lurch

of the church

I’m condemned

to a blank mind.

All inspirations

have ran for the shadows.

Seeking the limelight

is not their thing,

it seems, tonight–or

on many nights

for that matter.

I hide the family jewels

insured by my

innocence to be

able to retrieve

them

if they will not

show themselves

on their own.

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Categories: creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized, writing | Leave a comment

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