Procrastination Blues: Writer’s Block

07 Jan


Procrastination Blues: Writer’s Block


Forget about dreaming

when there is nothing but claustrophobic smoke

surrounding you

in a small room

with an open page

and barely anything left

besides deadlines

an early job

a reservation to a humble riot

and empty cigarette packs

mistakes in time

the literary kind

a kindness that never called

a Guy Clark song floating around

a stranger in the Northeastern haste

a twangy twitch and a yawn

a word that Microsoft doesn’t recognize underlined in red

their mistake because you know best

because you’ve put in the time

the literary kind

trying everything out

coming out with the same story

about prisons made of soul and skin

a muse you’ve been living in

another wasted night waiting for a morning drink

something left unsaid because there’s no new direction

still paving the dead end road

the one you’ve walked along

fit for an old country song tune

and you’re no longer intending to rhyme

but really just trying to get a few words out

then the letters unintended seem to fit

and you clasp at an idea

because that’s what you have left

the keep going stubbornness

and all this thankless time

the literary kind

until the light comes up in a journey

and the page remains the same

and you haven’t slept and haven’t dreamed

and the smoke surrounds you in your small room

and the bloom of someone you’re forgetting still seems golden

and the sentences get longer

and the breath

the breath becomes a whistle

a whistle of a night where nothing was accomplished


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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