I’ve entered the gates of Proverbial Hell,
Where words sting and phrases flirting with fictitious ferocity burn deep within the soul,
Demons dance on hiatus,
Tickling, teasing the tongue with the right sound.
And should one dare to take a linguistic step in a direction other than to please the all powerful,
Whatever,
He/She will suffer a fate far beyond that of everlasting pain…
WRITER’S BLOCK.
I’ve not suffered such a fate,
Not yet anyway.
However, my writing has become that that’s sprung from an infertile mind,
A dimwit,
A ____________…
Even now I lack the words.

10/04/2006

Author's Note: We've all been here

Posted on 10/04/2006
Copyright © 2024 Deborah Breuer