Word’s terrify me. They grip onto me so tightly and they never let go. They burrow themselves inside my mind and make me sob. I can’t get rid of the words. That’s what writer’s block feels like; I guess. I had an issue there with grammar did the block belong to the writer? I feel like I belong to it sometimes. I haven’t written poetry in a while only because I can only be a poet when the block has me. It’s cathartic while the words latch onto my brain and refuse to settle into the crisp white paper or onto the blank screen. I have an old one though that I will share with you after this. A poem about a graveyard for a friend of a friend. A poem I forgot about until a few days ago.
Let’s talk time for a moment. How it hangs from branches in the sky and puddles at your feet. How sometimes it rains and pours and how sometimes it dries out your lungs. I want to forget time exists for a moment. But time is the moment I seek and everything adds up to the minutes and seconds it takes for you to close your eyes and fall asleep.
Maybe I am being idiotic when I feel like time holds me back, but every day would feel incomplete if time didn’t start over again. I hate the end of days and moments and trips and…
I haven’t been writing poetry. I have gotten over the writer’s block which was tying me to the confinements of rhymes and metaphors. But with untying those tight knots I discovered what it felt like to have time move quickly again. A month without writing anything but poetry. A month without any progress on any of my work. A month of freedom? Maybe. Nothing moved and neither did I.
I forgot about this blog because I was writing about things that seemed to be more important. A friend of mine started writing and I remembered it had been a while. I am sorry for the nothingness.