writing my way through...two

this is redundant

damnit,

this longing

to scribe...

looking intensely

for the right vibe,

playing music

and reading...

reminiscing on when

words came easy

damn,

i just want to write...

is the thing i scream silently,

so what is it?

why do i get stuck in prose

looking for a poem?

why do i find myself,

free-styling stanzas

of vexation

to force OUT of me

what used to flow like

fountain springs?

i've been doing inventory

drinking up what drops fall

as liquid incentive...

yet i ache at the stillness

is it me?

am i changing?

...is what i ask,

has my muse

left to bring blissful whispers

of worded pleasures

to another?

[whore]

is my time up and over?

have i squandered

my poetic account?

or am i a lifetime member

of the torture and ecstasy

that comes with the artistry?

or have i become too used to the enstasy

...spending too much time

inside my mind,

rummaging through

experiences of old,

instead of creating

new slide shows

and new tides to row...

even though,

i do feel it...a little

that purge pushing past

smoke screens

and veils of veiled attempts

to ignore the tickling

at the base of my spine...

and if i had to be honest,

i'm may be in denial...

that what begs to be written,

ain't what i want to be scribbling...

hiding out in this question

when the answer,

lies barefaced

with glaring eyes...

that i need to quit trying to make it

bend to me

knowing i'm it's slave...

and not the other way around

damnit...

i knew when i started asking,

two entries ago...

that i was rebelling

with my sun's stubbornness

my rising's detachment

and my moon's oblivion...

against the truth...

the truth...

and it's naked ways

beseeching me to see it,

causing blush...all the same

and now,

i'm sitting on the fence

pen ready and unsteady

afraid to see what's left

when the ink dries

blinking blankly

at the reveal...

throwing back the comfort

from what i've tried to conceal

[deep swallow]

i suppose if i obey it

give way to it

and sway with it,

that i'll unblock the passage

and my spirit will stop shimmying

and my head will quit spinning

and my heart will stop seizing...

if i'd only give my muse a reason

to return again...

to write my way through, this too

so, now

i guess i owe y'all a damn poem...

about love...