Sunday, 27 April 2014

Addled

A room lit
With only a bulb of yellow glow
A pen in hand
Trying to bleed the words
That hold her breath
But not a single word can she scrawl
Not a thought can she enunciate
Onto the white sheet
That stares back at her

Where her artistry went
She knows not
Where her afflatus wandered away
She cannot reach
The ache to delineate
The stories she keeps inside
Suffocate her
And claw her soul

She tries some more
To spew out the words 
That she holds within
Her heaving heart sinking
Into a crippling need
To do what she does best
_________

That night 
She sleeps 
With a cumbersome torso 
For she could not be liberated 
From the fervour 
That binds her self together 
And swells her hefty heart