the blag that gets in the way

something broke my skull open

and ripped out from the mess

an important part of my brain

letting loose a storm of images and words

never clotting.

now i need a tourniquet

something to stop all of my thoughts

and all of my ideas from pouring out

flowing all at once from the wound

fresh warm gushings of passion squirting

like an overexcited libertine at an orgy.

everything going full on all at once

can't get a clear thought written down

i stare blankly at the empty page

it stares back at me cold and piercing

reflecting back at me the dreary image

of what i think i've become.

in conversation it's no better

i scramble and stutter and pause and rewind

try to find the perfect words




for fear that the slightest mistake

will awkwardly drive the company away

and leave me kicking myself in the head.