day 217: afraid of the words / writers block.

if i die unpublished
make money off of me
use my words to fill
the shelves, between the bindings,
make them sell.

if i grow old and go insane
don't allow me to burn my words
because, not that i'm vain,
but i'm smart enough to see
they're important because
others can feel them--
it's not just me.

if i stop writing
don't yell at me
remind me that words
are unforgiving
but you'll forgive me
if i just pick up the freaking pen.

day one hundred ninety-two: lost my muse again.

someone please.
hear these.
whispered pleas.
missing muse.
cannot reuse.
yesterday's words.

day one hundred seventy-four: lack of inspiration.

failing
falling
to find
behind
the pages
of a book
the inspiration
that i need
to finish something
that has already
begun